Lives
by Patano
Summary: The life of Sybil and Tom Branson told on two interweaving time planes. One tells the story of their life in Dublin up to their escape from Ireland in 1920. The other starts with the birth of their daughter and is a 3x05 onwards Season 3 rewrite - Sybil lives. New chapter - "Fighting for Your Dreams 1920": Tom must make choices concerning his career and meets Sir Anthony.
1. New Life 1919

_This is the first chapter of my S/T fanfic. It will be set on two different, interweaving time planes - one will tell the story from S/T's arrival in Dublin to their escape in 1920. The other will start with the birth of the Bransons' daughter till the end of S3. The second time plane will be obviously AU - Sybil will live. I will try to explore the Bransons from various angles. Hope that you'll enjoy. Reviews are very welcome :)_

* * *

**LIVES**

* * *

_I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,  
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;  
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,  
And live alone in the bee loud glade._

_And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,_  
_Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;_  
_There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,_  
_And evening full of the linnet's wings._

_I will arise and go now, for always night and day_  
_I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;_  
_While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,_  
_I hear it in the deep heart's core._

** - W.B. Yeats, "Lake Isle of Innisfree"**

**April 1919**

The morning sun was already shining brightly when Sybil Crawley opened her eyes. She yawned loudly and stretched her legs under the sheets. While Sybil had become accustomed to waking up early for her shifts at the hospital, she had lately returned to her previous habits. Breakfast was definitely not served at Downton at an early hour, after all. _I'll sleep a little more until Anna comes to wake me up,_ the young woman decided. She turned on her mattress in order to find a more comfortable position for more sleep. The former Nurse Crawley had to admit that she felt oddly exhausted today; her legs felt as if she had walked quite a distance.

A sudden realization hit her. She quickly opened her eyes again. The young woman's suspicions were immediately confirmed. Lady Sybil Crawley was no longer living at Downton. Since yesterday, _Miss_ Sybil Crawley was living in Dublin.

Sybil still couldn't believe it. She had firmly began a new chapter in life. It wasn't just a start of a new life; it was a start of a new life with _him_. A joyful thrill spread throughout her body. It wasn't even a bit surprising that her desire for sleep had already evaporated. The youngest Crawley girl stretched her legs and then quickly went out of bed. She approached the window and drew the curtains open. The city of Dublin was already bustling with activity. How different it was to Downton, where everything always seemed to be in slow, cautious motion. More was always happening downstairs, of course; but even there everything was happening in accordance with a certain schedule, and each action needed to fit into a previously chosen frame; there was no room for creativity or improvisation. Only during the war had the frame got loosened a bit, but Sybil felt that she would soon learn that Downton's loosened frames couldn't even compare with Dublin's lack of them.

* * *

Breakfast was quite a stressful event for Sybil. After all, she was now living with her future mother-in-law whom she had met for the first time just a day before. Any young woman would have felt similarly uncomfortable in her place, and Sybil's situation was even more complicated. Sybil Crawley, the youngest daughter of the Earl of Grantham, wanted to marry a working class man from the family of Irish republicans. Sybil understood that Tom's family had valid reasons for being suspicious of her motives. She knew that the only way to deal with this situation was to make them know her real self, the self that did not allow to be reduced to a stereotypical picture. In a way, it was exactly what freedom meant for Sybil Crawley – the ability to escape rigid frames that you had to fit in. That was exactly what she and Tom had in common – they were both frame breakers.

Mrs. Branson did treat Sybil with reservation, but was at the same time perfectly polite. The young woman had to admit regretfully that if only her father had treated Tom in this way, she certainly wouldn't have had much to complain about.

"It was delicious," said Sybil tentatively after she had finished her meal.

"I'm glad that you liked it. You must have eaten more refined meals at home, I presume, " responded Mrs. Branson in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Refined, maybe. But that does not mean more tasty. I enjoy simplicity in all areas of life."

"Is this not just some diversity for a person who has everything?"

Mrs. Branson was a blunt woman, just like her son. Sybil sensed that she would often be tested in this way until the Irishwoman got a full portrait of her character. _At least, despite reservations and maybe some prejudices, she's trying to get to know me, while my family still sees Tom only as a chauffeur,_ came a bitter realization.

Sybil awoke from her reverie only to see Mrs. Branson watching her cautiously with raised eyebrows. It was high time to respond. "I don't think so. I've been like this since I was a little girl, and if it was only a diversity, I would become bored of it now."

"Maybe it's a rebellion, then?" The older woman's question was once more straightforward and demanding a clear-cut answer. Mrs. Branson did not even attempt to hide her worries connected with his son's unlikely fiancée.

"I always see rebellion as something variable which changes in relation to circumstances. I don't see a constant trait of character as an expression of rebellion."

Mrs. Branson only nodded and rose from her chair in order to wash the dishes; an appeased small smile was now visible on her face. Sybil gave a sigh of relief – it seemed that she had passed at least that test favourably. Quickly, she also rose to her feet. "Maybe I can help you? I may not be the most experienced person when it comes to daily chores, but I really, really want to learn."

Mrs. Branson once more gave her only a small nod. It was one of the things in which she differed from Tom – she was a woman of few words. However, the faint smile on the Irish matriarch's face served as a message to Sybil that the youngest Crawley sister had just scored a few more points.

* * *

Tom finished work in the afternoon and immediately went to his mother's flat. He still couldn't believe that Sybil was there. Frankly, part of him expected to learn that it was all just a dream and that Sybil Crawley still lived at Downton Abbey. But no. Once he entered the kitchen, he saw _her_. She was busy laying the table, while his mother was stirring up the soup.

Tom didn't know how to behave. Neither did Sybil, who quickly noticed him and smiled broadly. It was still strange to be observed by other people, to be out of the hiding place that was a secluded garage. If they had been in the garage, he would have run to her and kissed her passionately, but he did not feel like doing this in front of his mother.

Mrs. Branson was however a very shrewd woman; she immediately sensed what was going on and turned her attention towards the nearest window. Tom quickly read his mother's signals and approached Sybil without further hesitation. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek and greeted her with a tender _Good afternoon, love_. Sybil, then, responded with a look _so_ loving that the young man couldn't catch his breath for a moment, still not believing that they were going to be married soon.

The three of them finally sat to the table. It felt really strange - not long ago they ate their meals at two different tables, in two different worlds, even though those worlds were situated in the same building. Never mind that they had always, since their first meeting, been feeling that they were from exactly the same world. Thankfully, it was finally time for the external to be coincident with the internal.

It felt also a different kind of awkward for the young couple. They both realized that it would always be like that from this dinner onward - shortly they would be a family. Again, only formally – because they had been feeling like a family for a long time.

* * *

After dinner, Sybil and Tom decided to go on a walk together. Tom was determined to acquaint his fiancée with at least a few places in Dublin.

It was so strange _yet_ again. They had started walking hand in hand together around Downton village after the announcement of their engagement, but whenever they had done so, they had been a sensation. As a result, they deeply craved for the experience of being treated as a normal couple. It wasn't that they were ashamed of their relationship, but they felt profound sadness that a cross-class relationship was still something _that _shocking to _so_ many people. In a way, surprised reactions hurt their idealistic belief in social change, though they still didn't doubt that the desired change would come, and that one day they would be able to publically tell their story without anyone raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

The sun started to set down as Sybil and Tom turned from the main street and entered a small park. The young couple decided to rest for a while on the bench situated in the nearby greenery, which was quite hidden from any prying eyes.

"I love Dublin already," whispered Sybil as she relaxed into her fiancé's embrace.

"We arrived here only yesterday..."

"It doesn't matter. It's a charming city and here I'm starting my new life with you. That's enough to make me love it. Power of associations and all of that. You know, in other circumstances I wouldn't find garages to be exceptionally pleasant or romantic… but I actually do find them as such because of _us_."

Tom could only smile in response and reached for her hand. "I still can't believe that you're here. "

"Then I must make you believe it, " laughed Sybil and pressed her lips to his. After years of painful longing, both of them couldn't get enough of kissing each other. They were finally free to express all the love that they had been feeling for each other for _so_, _so_ long. Every kiss seemed to be a compensation for each unsaid _I love you_ and each repressed tender touch.

"Stop doing this in public where children can see you, " a shrill voice suddenly interrupted them.

Sybil and Tom jumped from each other and saw an elderly woman looking at them disapprovingly. By the woman's side, stood a little blonde girl in a green dress.

"Young folks these days do not know how to behave… such displays in public… it was unthinkable in my days, " the woman finished expressing her displeasure, took the girl's hand, and walked off.

"So, even here we're disapproved of, " remarked Sybil.

"But it's a normal kind of disapproval – the one stemming from the differences between the elderly and the youth. The conflict that has been present in the world since its beginning."

Sybil only nodded and directed her eyes towards the leaving pair – the woman was hurrying to be as far from the bench as possible, whereas the little girl… Sybil needed to catch her breath – the little girl turned around and smiled broadly. Her intense blue eyes showed something that Sybil and Tom received rarely – approval.

* * *

**Next time: New Life 1920**

Their life was to change irrevocably – not only because they were now parents, but also because they had to find a new place to live. They needed a new space that would be just theirs and they were impatient to create their own small world again.


	2. New Life 1920

_Hello :) First and foremost - thank you for all the reviews. I greatly enjoyed them all. Keep them coming :D._

_In this chapter we venture into the post-3x05 AU. Since I stopped watching DA after 3x05, I hope that I'll be able to provide you all with a fresh look of post-3x05 DA._

_Traditionally - hope that you'll enjoy :)_

* * *

**New Life 1920**

* * *

_May she be granted beauty and yet not  
Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,  
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,  
Being made beautiful overmuch,  
Consider beauty a sufficient end,  
Lose natural kindness and maybe  
The heart-revealing intimacy  
That chooses right and never find a friend._

_[...]_

_May she become a flourishing hidden tree  
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,  
And have no business but dispensing round  
Their magnanimities of sound,  
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,  
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.  
Oh, may she live like some green laurel  
Rooted in one dear perpetual place._

**- W.B Yeats – „A Prayer for My Daughter"**

**Summer 1920**

Sybil Branson opened her eyes after a long and satisfying sleep. For a moment, the young woman had an entirely blissful feeling that she was at her and Tom's Dublin flat. But no, they were still here, at Downton, in her old room.

Her life had been a total mayhem lately – not only because she had become a mother, but also because of all the complications that had surrounded her labour. It had been only yesterday that she had been allowed to return home from the hospital, and she still had been told to lie in bed for the next few days in order to fully recover after the Caesarean section.

Sybil regretted that she couldn't spend as much time with her daughter as she wished to, even though Tom was considerate as always and tried to bring the little one to her mother as often as it was possible.

While the young mother was lost in her thoughts, the door opened, and Tom Branson entered the bedroom with an infant in his arms. He approached the bed and got into it, laying himself next to Sybil. Without a word, he handed the little bundle to his wife.

Sybil cherished every moment when she could look at her daughter. This little one was so _amazing_. As a nurse, Sybil had encountered many babies at the Dublin hospital, but still – their daughter was _special_. She was the living symbol of their love, and Sybil adored the fact that this little one was _so_ similar to Tom. Sybil could see Tom's nose, Tom's eyes, Tom's cheeks… and she could feel a happy thrill in her spine. It was so _thrilling_ to think that they had something _together_ that would be always _theirs_… _their_ Saoirse.

_Sybil was still feeling horrible, but she didn't want to sleep anymore. She just woke up and the only thing on her mind was to see her baby as soon as possible. She remembered holding the little one with Tom soon before she had fallen asleep. They hadn't spent much time together, but Sybil already missed her child acutely. Same could be said about Tom; how she longed to see him as well!_

_"I want to see my husband and my child," the young mother told Dr Clarkson._

_"It's very early in the morning, I don't know when Mr. Branson may turn up here.." _

_"I __**am**__ here."_

_Both Sybil and the doctor looked up. In the doorway stood a familiar young man with a white bundle in his arms._

_Sybil's face broke into a large smile; she didn't feel any exhaustion at that moment._

_Tom slowly approached the bed and explained, "I couldn't sleep all night… and then I had to come here as quickly as I could. I had to see you and know that you're all right…"_

_His wife's eyes welled up with happy tears – Tom's devotion always moved her. Actually, she was sometimes worried whether she didn't do too little for him in return. He had once promised her to devote every waking minute to her happiness; and she was desperate to do the same for him. Not because she felt that she needed to, but because she __**wanted**__ to. Tom deserved it and she loved him with all of her heart._

_Once Doctor Clarkson had retreated towards the door, Tom sat on the edge of the bed and showed the bundle to her mother._

_Sybil's face had no more traces of pain. She smiled at her husband serenely and whispered weakly, "I think that we should name her."_

_"So, what are we leaning towards ultimately?" Tom replied with a small grin. He totally remembered how many different ideas on the issue they had had previously._

_"In fact, there's one name that I really want to give her… but only if you want it too. Just be honest with me and tell me if you like it because what I want most is for our daughter to have a name chosen by both of her parents."_

_"I promise to be honest," replied Tom and held out his hand to stroke Sybil's curls encouragingly._

_"I've been thinking lately that we should give our child an Irish name, now that we're on exile… to honour her Irish roots and to have some reminder of our home. And I really like the name Saoirse specifically."_

_Tom bent down to kiss her brow, "Freedom, huh? Very fitting for us. I love it. And hopefully it will be prophetic as well – I hope that our little girl will always be free to make her own choices and to live the life that she wants to live."_

_At that moment Miss Saoirse Branson decided to open her eyes and prompted her parents to focus all of their attention on her perfect blue eyes._

* * *

After Tom and Saoirse had left the room, Sybil took a few guidebooks about childcare from the nightstand and delved into them. However, she didn't even manage to turn a page when she heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened and Sybil was happy to welcome her eldest sister. Mary sat on the chair next to the bed and glanced at the books that Sybil was keeping on her lap.

"Hoping to become a perfect mum?" the young woman teased her baby sister.

"Maybe not perfect, but there's a lot that I need to learn."

"You won't have to learn it that quickly… at least as long as you're here."

The truth of those words hit Sybil strongly. Yes, here at Downton she was not expected to take care of her child only by herself.

"Tom and I would prefer to look after Saoirse ourselves. I can accept help until I'm fully recovered, but later we would prefer to live by our own rules."

"But you're now living here, and it will not hurt you if you abide by Downton's rules for the time being. After all, Papa prevented Tom's arrest and offered you this house as a place of refuge," Mary furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yes, and we're both very grateful for it. We don't want to create any havoc, don't worry. But we also need some privacy, and I don't think that allowing us to have a free choice on how to bring up our child will cause any problems or disrupt normal life at Downton."

Mary Crawley decided not to discuss this issue further; she knew that Sybil's points were valid, but at the same time she was also aware of her father's rigid views. It was definitely not a good moment to worry Sybil with anything of this sort – the most important thing for the time being was her recovery. Thinking about all the problems that bringing a child up at Downton entailed could certainly wait. "So," the eldest Crawley sister tried to change the topic, "the little one's name is S... sorry, Sybil, I'm afraid that I can't pronounce it yet."

Sybil grinned mischievously, "We will need to give you all a lesson."

"I'm afraid that Papa will not approve," Mary said before she could bite her tongue.

"I'm afraid not," Sybil sighed in response.

Mary felt that, regardless of the topic that she would introduce at that moment, the conversation would still lead to mentioning their father. Thus, she acknowledged that it would be better to leave Sybil in peace if that meant avoiding a difficult discussion. When she was trying to get up from the chair, however, she heard her sister's voice.

"It will be very different when you and Matthew have a baby," Sybil said with a warm smile, "He'll be so happy… don't worry, I'm not jealous…"

"He is happy about your baby; or rather he will be. Just give him time, " Mary finally managed to stand up, "I really must go now, Sybil. Just rest peacefully."

Once her elder sister was gone, Sybil felt a need to reflect on what had passed between them. Surprisingly, she became focused on one thing – that Mary's voice had acquired a certain tone of sadness after her future baby had been mentioned.

* * *

The dinner finished early to Tom Branson's satisfaction. The young father quickly excused himself from drinking port and headed towards his and Sybil's bedroom. Once he entered the room, he found his wife deeply engrossed in a book devoted to childcare.

"You'll be an excellent mother. Actually, you're already are," Tom sent his beloved an encouraging smile and began preparing for the bed.

When he finally settled next to her, Sybil muttered, "I can't wait to take care of Saoirse myself. I feel quite well already."

"There's no need to rush things. Everything is under control, " Tom replied and gently took her into his arms.

Sybil sighed and laid her head against her husband's chest. "I know, but I hate doing nothing; and I also want things to go smoothly at least in this respect because soon we'll need to tackle a lot of issues."

Tom could only nod in response. Their life was to change irrevocably – not only because they were now parents, but also because they had to find a new place to live. They needed a new space that would be just theirs and they wished to create their own small world again. First and foremost, he had to search for a new job. But not now. There were things that were far more important for the time being.

"Darling, we'll deal with all of this when the time comes. Right now we should above all cherish the fact that we're still together," the young man whispered into his wife's ear and began spreading kisses throughout her face.

Sybil giggled and laid herself even more comfortably into his embrace. Soon, her quiet snoring sent Tom a message that she was soundly asleep.

The lamp on the nightstand threw a snop of light on the sleeping figure. Tom could swear that that a yellow glow formed around his beloved wife's head; it looked like a halo and gave Sybil an appearance of a slumbering angel.

Silently, the young man thanked God that Sybil had not joined the heavenly choir on that eventful day when Saoirse had been born.

* * *

**Next Time: Settling Down 1919**


	3. Settling Down 1919

**Settling Down 1919**

* * *

_Where Thou art—that—is Home—  
Cashmere—or Calvary—the same—  
Degree—or Shame—  
I scarce esteem Location's Name—  
So I may Come—_

_What Thou dost—is Delight—_  
_Bondage as Play—be sweet—_  
_Imprisonment—Content—_  
_And Sentence—Sacrament—_  
_Just We two—meet—_

_Where Thou art not—is Woe—_  
_Tho' Bands of Spices—row—_  
_What Thou dost not—Despair—_  
_Tho' Gabriel—praise me—Sire—_

**- Emily Dickinson**

**April 1919**

Nobody said that it would all be easy; but Sybil and Tom had been aware of this even before they had made their respective choices. Maybe they were a pair of young idealists, but they were not _insensible_ idealists. Both lady and her chauffeur had known what they had been taking on when they had decided to be together.

As such, the young lovers were constantly smiling even though they needed to deal with a lot of issues. Firstly, they had to buy a flat for themselves. Thankfully, Tom had saved some money during his employment in England, and Sybil had the money that she had received from her father. Truth be told, Tom was initially hesitant to use Lord Grantham's fortune, but Sybil made him realize that the flat was going to serve them _both_, so he would not be using _that _money only for himself. Mrs. Branson also had offered to lend them some of her savings, which touched Sybil immensely because the older woman was by no means made of money. _All my other children are already settled down, and I don't need much money because I lead a simple lifestyle. Why should I not spend money on my own son? _Sybil had already learnt by then that there was no point in disagreeing with Mrs. Branson. Hence, she and Tom had had no other choice but to accept that generous gift and try to recompensate it in the future.

For the time being, Sybil lived with Mrs. Branson, whereas Tom moved into his brother's flat. Soon, however, he intended to live at his and Sybil's new home. But first, they of course needed to find it. Tom got in touch with his old friends and also asked his new colleagues from work for help. Not before long, the young couple had a list of flats that were available for sale. Then, they decided to have a look at them together; it had _always_ been this way with Sybil and Tom – they _always_ had to do everything accompanied by the other. It was simply in the nature of their bond.

The first few flats unfortunately did not suit their needs or taste; but the big day did finally come.

It was love at first sight. They only saw the building and its whereabouts, and they immediately felt that it was what they were searching for. Once the young pair crossed the threshold, then, they were sure - that flat was perfect for them to begin their life together.

"What do you think of it, love?" whispered Tom to his fiancée after they entered the bedroom.

"I think that it's exactly what we need, Tom," replied Sybil and approached the window.

The weather in Dublin was awful that day; it had been raining since the early morning and the sky was completely covered with dark, nontransparent clouds. Nonetheless, in this moment Sybil felt an immense relief, and the raindrops seemed to soothe her heart. "This is your new home", the universe was telling her.

"Tom, I really think that it's our new home," Sybil suddenly stated.

"Why?" inquired Tom with an indulgent smile.

"Because… I feel safe and relaxed here. I suppose that you understand me… when you're somewhere and the weather is terrible and you just feel that you could curl in the bed here and forget about everything… this is home."

Tom nodded his agreement ."It's affordable for us. It suits our needs. We feel good here. I'm afraid, darling, that we have to buy it."

"But do you really like it?"

Tom's answer was really simple. He took Sybil into a close embrace and kissed her warmly.

"I thought that we had to seal the deal," he explained.

Sybil grinned and led him to the window. Together, they looked at the Dublin street through the window pane of_ their_ new home.

* * *

Tom started to be nervous.

He was sitting by the desk in his mother's flat, trying to do some work. Unfortunately, he couldn't focus on it. He was seriously worried about Sybil.

Today, she had an interview at the Dublin hospital during which it was to be decided whether she would get a job as a nurse or not.

Tom knew how important it was for Sybil. She both wanted to have something to do as well as feel accepted as a "Dubliner", not just some visitor to the place. He also feared that she would get lost in the city that she still didn't know too well.

_Oh Tom, I need to get acquainted with Dublin as soon as possible. I'm going to live there, perhaps even for the rest of my life. You or your mother will not always walk with me. Believe me, I'm up to the challenge, _the young Irishman recalled his fiancee's words. Oh, how he loved that woman! Her courage, her passion, the glow in her eyes..

The door opened, and a moment later Sybil Crawley walked into the room.

Tom immediately noticed that she certainly didn't look happy. "How was it?" he inquired as she sat down on the sofa next to his chair.

"I didn't get it.." Sybil sighed.

Tom immediately got up from the chair and took a seat on the couch beside her. "It's their loss, darling."

Sybil's beautiful eyes lit up. "Don't think that I feel resigned. I'm not giving up. I'll show them what determination really means."

Tom just _had to_ smile at his beloved's strength of spirit. "Why didn't they offer you a job, exactly?"

Sybil's eyes suddenly became tense. "Actually, they didn't question my qualifications or work experience. I think that they were put off by my accent… they thought that perhaps I'm some pampered English girl who does not know anything about Ireland and its struggles. Maybe I'm not the most knowledgeable person on earth when it comes to this issue, but I want to learn..."

Tom responded simply by taking her into his arms. "I know how it is, my darling… I've met with similar treatment in England. Some people became prejudiced against me the very moment I opened my mouth."

"But we're stronger than that, aren't we? We won't give up. We will make them accept us. Because while they cannot defeat us, we don't want to just retreat into the corner or some hiding place. We want to be accepted, even though their opinions and judgment cannot hurt us." Sybil stated boldly as she relaxed into her fiancé's embrace.

Tom began nuzzling her hair in approval. Sybil giggled and put her arms around his neck. Tom instantly knew what to do; he leant and captured her lips with his own.

They still couldn't get enough of kissing each other. It was such an immense joy for them to be finally able to express their affection for each other in this way. Hence, they treasured every kiss and poured all of the love that they had for each other into them.

It was the most wonderful sensation. It was pure bliss. It was perfect unity, not only of lips, but also of spirit. It was…

"What are you doing here?" Mrs. Branson's voice took the young lovers by surprise. They didn't notice that she had entered the room.

Sybil and Tom had no other choice but to break apart. The world outside had decided to be an obstacle to their love once more.

* * *

In Tom's mind, Sybil needed one more thing to become a _true_ Dubliner. So, one Saturday evening he took her to a _true_ Irish pub. Firstly, she drank a _true _Irish beer (a drink that was definitely not often served at Downton Abbey), and then they decided to have a go at a _true_ Irish dance. It was their first public dance (earlier they had only made some attempts at twirls and turns in the Downton garage), and in Sybil's mind it was perfect just because she was tired of rigid dance rules. Here she knew that she was making mistake after mistake, but it made her feel free at the same time because she was aware that no one was judging her for those errors. It was having fun that counted, not adherence to the principles of dance etiquette.

Finally, the young pair went outside the pub to catch some breath.

"So now you've been properly christened as a Dubliner," Tom remarked teasingly.

"I suppose so. Oh Tom, how beautiful is the night sky over Dublin!" Sybil exclaimed, pointing at the starry firnament.

"Do you see these stars as familiar?"

Sybil chuckled, "Aren't you overdoing things now?"

"No, I'm deadly serious. I want to familiarise you with them. We need to go stargazing one evening. "

Suddenly, they both became silent for a few minutes.

It was Sybil who woke up first from their shared reverie. She reached for her beloved's hand and whispered quietly, "I don't need any 'christenings' or familiarizing myself with stars because 'Where Thou art—that—is Home'"

He _did _recognize the poem.

* * *

**Next Time: Settling Down 1920**

**A/N And please - leave a review ;)**


	4. Settling Down 1920

_Firstly - thank you very much for all the reviews, follows and favourites :)  
_

_Secondly - sorry for such a long break in updating. My life's been a bit hectic lately. There's also another reason - this chapter is much longer than the previous ones :)_

_Thirdly - I may not update this story for some time. I'm finishing my MA thesis right now and need to focus on that at the moment. I also plan to write another ficlet as a gift for a friend and update "Times" soon. Anyway, I'm submitting my thesis around 15th June, and after that I should be free to do lots of writing xD_

_Fourthly - please do not let the fact that I may not update this story for some time discourage you from leaving a review :P. All reviews are **very**, **very** much appreciated._

_Last, but not least - hope that you'll enjoy this chapter :)_

* * *

**Settling Down 1920**

* * *

_Years I had been from home,  
And now, before the door  
I dared not open, lest a face  
I never saw before _

_Stare vacant into mine  
And ask my business there.  
My business, - just a life I left,  
Was such still dwelling there?_

**- Emily Dickinson "Home"**

**Summer 1920**

It was their first family walk with a pram. The recovery period was over, and Sybil was finally allowed to venture outside.

The weather was lovely. It was moderately warm and sunny, without any unpleasant "surprises" looming in the nearest future. The only "problem" had appeared before the Bransons left the big house – the young parents had been unable to decide who would be pushing Saoirse's pram. Tom had not wanted Sybil to exert herself, whereas Sybil had not wished to be treated as a convalescent anymore. Ultimately, they had realized that they _both_ wanted to have the privilege of being able to push the pram, so they had decided to take turns.

This family walk also offered them an opportunity to spend some time together outside the walls of the big house. Privacy was hard to achieve at Downton, where the servants could knock at any moment even at the door of your own bedroom, and sometimes not knock at all if they mistakenly assumed that you weren't at your room. While the inhabitants of the house were accustomed to this order of things, the Bransons weren't; they desperately needed their own private space. At Downton they felt constrained and caged in a way. It was a whole different matter when they had previously spent there just a few days for a visit, and it was a completely different case now, when it was clear that they would for certain have to spend the next few months under the Crawleys' roof.

"I must start searching for a new job soon," Tom remarked suddenly. He had not talked about this issue with Sybil during her recovery because he had not wanted to bother her with it; but now they both knew that this topic could no longer be evaded.

"Maybe you should send some of your articles to the English press?"

"Send them articles advocating the freedom for Ireland?"

"But you did write on other topics too, darling…"

"It doesn't matter. I'm an Irishman with a past that precludes any chance of getting a job at an English paper."

Sybil bit her lip nervously.

"You're still against Liverpool?" Tom finally asked.

His wife did not hesitate with an answer. "No, because as I told you, I don't want you to move backwards."

"Isn't living again on your father's money a regression? Isn't living here permanently a regression as well? Besides, I don't think I'll be able to bear it. I don't feel good here. Liverpool is a fine place to live, Sybil. And we have a family there."

"From what I know, you and Kieran are not on good terms."

"Are we on good terms with your father, then?"

Sybil could not deny the truth of these words. Frankly, she didn't know what to say anymore. There was no tangible solution to their problem; they could only hope for a sudden stroke of luck. But she didn't want them to choose the rational way and go to Liverpool since she was hoping that, despite the unfortunate external circumstances, they could make it work. She believed in her husband and his talents as well as strength of character; she knew that he was able to pull through in spite of all the odds that were against him. Not only that – it was certain that he would not waste any opportunity that might come into his way.

Why then settle for less than they could have so quickly? They were both fighters; they always strove for more than was reasonably attainable. Actually, if they hadn't been as such, they would have never got married. No, Liverpool was not the right option for them. At least – not yet.

Finally, they came to the bench and decided to rest a little. Once they sat comfortably down, Sybil made an attempt to return to their previous conversation.

"Tom, I really think that we should stay here for the time being. We'll get some family support, I promise you. Maybe not from my father… but there is still Mary, Matthew, my mother… and I think that you ought to look for another job before you decide to return to mechanic work. We also need to have some peace right now. Our life has been so eventful lately… "

Tom said nothing; he only took her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Then, he reached for her cheek and caressed it tenderly.

They didn't need too many words to properly communicate. They had known each other for seven years now, and not only that – there was some inherent understanding between the two of them, between two people who felt and perceived the world in a similar way. Thus, they were able to naturally read each other's signals and respond to them also in a non-verbal way.

Of course, the Bransons' organic bond did not mean that they did not like talking to each other because they could converse for hours without any break. But words were not always necessary for them to reach an understanding.

Sybil was the first one to break the silence. "There's only one problem with staying here – the christening. We cannot wait much longer, Tom. "

Tom squeezed her hand again. "Are you still sure that you want to do this? I know that you're doing it just for me…"

"I'm sure. You've done many things for me, darling. I know how much this means for you, while I really don't mind that our daughter will not be christened in my faith, " Sybil replied and gave him an encouraging, radiant smile.

"But you know what this may later entail? It's not easy to be a Catholic in England…"

"We won't stay in England forever, will we? I'm sure that we'll come back to Ireland one day," Sybil said confidently.

Tom was immensely moved by his wife's statement; he momentarily became lost for words and was only able to squeeze Sybil's hand yet again.

"I'll try to organize it, then… But how will your family react to this news?" he managed to utter at last.

Sybil's face instantly became very tense. "I won't lie to you, darling… My father… well… but the rest of the family shall take it better."

"Don't you find it strange that your father happens to dislike everything that I am? Though I've become accustomed to it already, to be honest. And remember - we still haven't announced Saoirse's name to your _whole_ family…"

"We'll tell them today after dinner," Sybil declared boldly. "There's no need to wait any longer. I'm totally all right now, darling, and ready to deal with all the possible stress."

"Are we going to tell them today about the Catholic christening as well?"

Sybil pondered her husband's question for a moment before replying, "No, I think that we shouldn't vex them too much in one day. One step at a time, as Mary would say."

At that moment, Saoirse decided that her parents had already talked too much; that little one definitely possessed an ability to perceive whether someone talked enough and needed to be interrupted. This time the little girl opted for the "gentle way" and did not start crying. Instead, she opened her tiny mouth and began cooing adorably.

It had to work. Both of Saoirse's parents immediately bent down to take her in their arms. Tom was the one who ultimately surrendered; he knew that mother and daughter needed to make up for the time lost when Sybil had been recovering from her Cesarean.

Saoirse cooed again and waved her tiny fists, sending Tom and Sybil into an entirely blissful state. They didn't wanted to talk about _any_thing else _any_more. They didn't want to even think about what was ahead of them.

It was just here and now. It was only them and their little girl. The world outside ceased to exist.

* * *

Once the dinner was over and the men joined the ladies in the drawing room, Tom and Sybil sat next to each other and waited for the best moment to tell the family about their daughter's name. Well, at least _some_ of the family - Mary, Matthew and Edith had already been informed of the news. But now the more difficult part was ahead.

Sybil felt her husband's hand moving to reach hers. She gratefully accepted the reassuring touch, but couldn't help pondering that situations liked to repeat themselves. Just a year and a half ago, she and Tom had announced their engagement in the same room, facing her family's shock and lack of acceptance. This evening they would have to deal with the same once more.

_It's ridiculous. Why do we always have to fight battles with my family? We're adult people. We don't do anything wrong. We just want to lead the kind of life that we have chosen themselves. Why do they think they're entitled to have any sort of power over us? Yes, we're their guests, so we need to accept their rules to some extent now… but what right do they have to criticize the name that we have chosen for our child? _Sybil's temper flared; she was beginning to have enough of her family's behavior. She had been patient and understanding for months because she was aware that they needed time to accept her marriage. She had not mentioned her parents' absence at the wedding in Dublin even once. Actually, she had tried to understand their point of view and had striven not enter into any quarrels, but now her patience was approaching its limit.

Sybil Branson did not feel intimidated tonight; she felt daring and ready to make the announcement, regardless of her family's potential reaction. She glanced at Tom to check if he felt the same, and saw similar determination in his eyes. Yes, it was high time. They were ready to face the Crawleys again.

"Mama," she addressed Lady Grantham, who had just ended a conversation with Cousin Isobel and was now reaching for her cup of tea.

"Yes, my darling?" Cora Crawley replied, and took a sip out of the cup.

"I just want to say, " Sybil inhaled deeply and squeezed her husband's hand harder, "that we decided on our daughter's name."

Cora withdrew the cup from her mouth and gave Sybil an indulgent smile, "We're all in anticipation. What name have you chosen?"

Sybil looked around all the faces in the sitting room – Mary, Edith and Matthew were sending her worried looks, Cousin Isobel nodded encouragingly, and Grandmama's face was hard to decipher. Ultimately, Sybil looked at her father, whose face bore an unpleasant grimace. He clearly anticipated something that he would not approve of and seemed to prepare himself for a display of a self-indulgent eye-rolling.

It was the last straw.

"Her name is Saoirse," Sybil announced in a strong, forceful tone.

Lady Grantham's cup hit the floor.

A moment later, the room fell completely silent. Carson was unsurprisingly the first one to regain his composure and quickly left in search of one of the maids that would clean the floor.

"Do you plan to emigrate to China?" the Dowager Countess' voice finally broke the awkward silence.

"CHINA?" exclaimed Sybil and Tom in unison.

"I thought that only Chinese are able to invent the unspeakable."

Tom's nostrils started to flare. Sybil pressed his hand with all the strength that she could muster.

"I suppose that it's a Gaelic name, isn't it?" Robert Crawley remarked out of sudden.

"It is," came Tom's defiant reply.

"I totally expected that it would be a name connected with Ireland. Though I still didn't foresee _this_. I thought that it would be something in the line of Augusta, after Lady Gregory," snorted Lord Grantham.

"I think that Sybil and Tom are entirely free to name their child as they please," declared Isobel unhesitatingly.

Sybil sent her a thankful smile. "In fact, Saoirse means exactly that – freedom."

Lord Grantham snorted again, but Isobel's face lit up. "I think that it's lovely. And very fitting for your child."

"Oh, of course. The stranger the name is, the more it suits your taste. You would actually surprise me if you didn't like it," stated the Dowager sarcastically before continuing, "So, would you two be as kind as to inform us how to say this… name?"

At that moment, Mary Crawley made up her mind to join the conversation. "Granny is right. Sybil and Tom have already chosen the name, so there's no use in discussing its merits and disadvantages. Instead, it'd better to focus on how to correctly pronounce it."

"Oh yes, we definitely need that," Lady Grantham backed her eldest daughter up.

Sybil knew that Mary and her mother merely wanted to redirect the conversation and was deeply grateful for it. So, the young woman immediately complied with their request and uttered slowly and clearly, "It's pronounced Sear-Sha."

Robert could not hold it anymore. "Why do you want to make my granddaughter an object of ridicule? Cannot you give her a normal name? And for what reason? To make a display of your nationalism?"

Tom's whole body became tense; he quickly stood up to face his father-in-law. The discussion swiftly turned into a two-actor spectacle, with the rest of the family only watching the unfolding scene. "Firstly, I'm not a nationalist. Secondly, I would be grateful if you could tell me why there is any wrong in giving a child a name connected with her country."

"HER country? Since when she's Irish? From what I know, her mother is English and she was born on the English soil…" Robert raged.

"Yes, and I can promise you that her English heritage will be cultivated too. But she's half-Irish and will hopefully live in Ireland one day, so we want to ensure that she'll be brought up in the tradition of this country as well."

"I want to remind you that this child also has a mother. Does Sybil mean nothing in all of this?"

"She does. A lot. I don't do anything without taking her opinion and wishes into account. Sybil chose to live in Ireland on her free will a year and a half ago, and she still wants to return there one day. She also wishes for our child to have a Gaelic name."

Tom spoke in a polite, but confident manner, which vexed his father-in-law immensely.

"I'm amazed at the power that you have over my daughter. You'll bring her round to your point of view every time you wish, won't you?" Robert yelled.

That was definitely too much for Sybil to handle. She also stood up to face her father.

"I can't believe how low you think of me, Papa. I've always had my own mind in case you haven't noticed. Fortunately, Tom knows me _much_, _much_ better than you do. It was my idea to give our daughter an Irish name, you know."

Robert's jaw fell. He couldn't even move anymore.

Sybil, on the other hand, was like on fire, and not bashful to finally voice the disappointments and pain that she had been holding up for months now, "I tried to understand you, Papa. I knew that you could not understand my choices in life, but I thought that at least you would not be unjust and judgmental. I accepted that you didn't want to come to our wedding because it was still very soon, and you were not yet ready to accept us … but what wrong has our child done? And honestly – you make such a fuss about Saoirse's name as if you in fact cared about her… when you haven't even held her once since she was born!"

The young woman at last finished her speech and turned on the heel to leave the room. She only nodded at her husband and whispered his name; Tom instantly sensed what she meant, and followed her to the door.

It was exactly like a year and a half ago.

Everyone remaining in the sitting room was too stunned to say anything. Robert just sat down on the sofa, still breathing heavily.

More than Lady Grantham's cup was cracked on that day.

* * *

Tom watched his wife as she was pacing their bedroom in an attempt to calm herself down. They were both shaken by what had happened in the drawing room, but Sybil was unsurprisingly the one who was more affected.

Tom felt a painful pang of frustration when he thought about Lord Grantham's behavior. He knew how important it was for Sybil to receive some acceptance from her father. _Sybil doesn't want much from you. She's already borne a lot. More than you deserve, if you ask me. She doesn't ask you to be thrilled with our marriage, but only to accept our choices and not to judge us unfairly. Your daughter is so loving and full of forgiveness; she didn't say a word about your absence at our wedding and behaved as if nothing had happened. I'm sure that even now she does not bear any grudge towards you… _

"Tom?" Sybil's quiet voice broke the flow of his thoughts.

"Yes, my dearest darling?"

Sybil did not respond; she merely collapsed on a nearby chair and gave out a deep breath. It was clear that she desperately wanted to find some inner peace."I didn't expect that he would take it _so_ badly… and this is only the first of many battles."

"I'm so sorry for losing my temper, love."

Sybil shook her head. "No, it was not your fault. You've endured enough of my father's unfair treatment. Today he definitely crossed the line. "

Tom sighed loudly. "It seemed that we learnt how to survive each other's company previously, but now, that we're living here permanently, and after what I did…"

"We'll need to strike a happy balance once more. Let's hope that Mama and Mary will somehow help us to deal with Papa…"

The young couple's exchange was interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door.

"Come in!" the they both yelled at the same time; the door opened and, to the Bransons' surprise, Edith entered the room.

The middle Crawley sister looked very nervous, and it wasn't only because she visited somebody's bedroom at such a late hour; she was repeatedly giving apprehensive glances at the sheets of paper in her hands.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you…" Edith at last opened her mouth to speak, "I hope that you're fine after what happened in the drawing room… but don't worry, I didn't come to talk about that."

Sybil and Tom exchanged puzzled looks; both had no idea what Edith wanted from them if not to discuss this evening's events.

"I just…" the young woman stuttered shyly. Ultimately, she took a deep breath and voiced what was on her mind, "Actually, I've come to see you, Tom… You're a journalist, so you must be knowledgeable about writing… Could you read these…" she pointed at the papers that she was holding, "and tell me what do you think about… this piece of writing? Please, don't hesitate to be completely honest with me. If it's bad, I want to know it… and if it's not _that_ bad, then I would love to know what I should improve…"

"Is it something political?" Tom asked.

Edith's face suddenly turned red. "No, it's not. It's… a beginning of a novel. But don't worry, it's not a romance."

Both Tom and Sybil were surprised at this statement, but managed to hide it, and instead gave Edith encouraging smiles.

"I do not see myself as an expert when it comes to novel writing… but I will definitely read this piece and tell you what I think about it, " Tom assured his sister-in-law.

Edith only smiled weakly in response and retreated to the door. Before she left the room, though, she turned to Sybil and Tom once more and spoke in a more confident way than before, "I'm sorry that I didn't say anything today in the drawing room… but I was afraid that I could only make the matters worse. You know, my opinion does not count much in this house… I just want to assure you that I'm on your side. I really think that we should stick together in this household." Having finished her little speech, Edith sent the Bransons yet another awkward smile, murmured "Thank you" to Tom, and quietly left the young pair's bedroom.

Sybil and Tom were silent for a few seconds, after which Tom attempted to resume conversation. "So, it seems that your sister listened to everyone and intends to focus on something else than her failed wedding… though I'm not sure this is what your grandmother had in mind."

Sybil merely nodded her assent absent-mindedly; her attention was thoroughly consumed by something else. Finally, she decided to share her thoughts with Tom, "Have you heard what Edith said? That she's on our side?"

Tom couldn't help smiling when she saw traces of joy on his beloved wife's face. It was the first time this evening that Sybil looked genuinely happy.

He approached the chair that Sybil was sitting on and put his arms around her in a reassuring embrace. "I have. She's a sensible woman, your sister; and she has a good heart. Too bad that she still needs more self-confidence. Though, I have to admit that it's not surprising considering how she's sometimes treated here... Sorry, Sybil, I feel that I need to speak the truth, "

"Oh, I know. You don't have to tell me about it, " Sybil sighed, "I so hope that she'll find her place one day and will be as happy as me and Mary are. "

"So you're happy? I have made you happy?"

Sybil smiled indulgently and leant deeper into his embrace. "You most certainly have. See? I don't even try to tease you about it today. I don't actually understand how you could ever doubt it. I think I've always been clear about how _very_ happy you make me."

Tom chuckled merrily and pressed his lips to her hair.

"Moreover," Sybil continued, "I have some happy news for you."

Tom stopped in the middle of another hair kiss and gave his wife a questioning glance.

"I talked to Dr Clarkson yesterday when he came to examine me. I asked him whether I could work as a nurse at Downton hospital for the next few months; and he agreed, " Sybil informed her husband joyfully.

Tom had to laugh. "See? Now I'm out of job, while my wife is the bread winner of our little family. I'm glad, darling, that you'll be able to continue doing what you love, and that we'll be in some way independent from your relatives."

"There are still a lot of battles to fight. Imagine their reactions to this news."

"I know. But we will fight them. Together, as always," Tom maintained and placed a long, deep kiss at his beloved's temple.

"There's still one more thing that I _must_ tell you today," Sybil announced out of the blue.

"Oh?" Tom now looked at her in consternation.

"I love you."

* * *

**Next time: Preparing for the Big Event 1919**


	5. Preparing for the Big Event 1919

_So, I'm back :) I submitted my thesis successfully and now I'm waiting for the defence. _

_Thank you for all the reviews, favourite and follows, and please keep them coming - they are a real source of motivation._

* * *

**Preparing for the Big Event 1919**

* * *

_What is the beginning? Love.  
What the course. Love still.  
What the goal. The goal is Love.  
On a happy hill  
Is there nothing then but Love?  
Search we sky or earth  
There is nothing out of Love  
Hath perpetual worth;  
All things flag but only Love,  
All things fail and flee;  
There is nothing left but Love  
Worthy you and me._

- **Christina Rossetti**

**Late May 1919**

_Dearest Sybil,_

_we would all like to thank you for the invitation to your and__ Bra... __Tom's wedding. Unfortunately, not all of us are able to attend. Mama has still not recovered from her recent illness, while Papa and Granny seem to have health problems as well…_

_Sybil, darling, I will not hurt you any longer with those excuses because I am certain that you are well aware that they are all lies. Everyone is in good health, even Mama is feeling much, much better than the last time you saw her. The problem is – Papa still struggles to acknowledge what happened… that you and__ Bra...__ Tom are engaged and soon to be married. Now, that the house has recovered from the Spanish flu and Lavinia's death, he is back to feeling nostalgic about the past. After all, the last blow of the storm has left Downton, so he does not want to encounter any remainders of the mayhem which ruled our lives for the last few years._

_What about Mama and Granny, you ask? I think that you already know the answers. Granny is of course not afraid to disobey Papa, but she will never publically oppose him in such a way. For her, it would be an example of family disloyalty. Claiming that she is too ill to travel in her opinion saves our family's reputation. And you know our Mama too – she's not that kind of wife who breaks the vow of marital obedience. I'm sure, however, that she dearly wishes to be in Dublin for your wedding and that her thoughts will be with you on that big day. I suppose that she will attend church and pray for the success of your marriage at the same time you will be uttering your marriage vows. Maybe your mind does not approve of such a stance, but I am certain that your kind heart understands it and will not bear a grudge. _

_Matthew has, I am afraid, still not recovered from Lavinia's death, and Cousin Isobel wants to stay with him, but she told me that she would go to Dublin only if the circumstances were different. _

_Our family aside, Anna also expressed a desire to attend you wedding, but as you know she cannot manage to come because she wants to be as close to Bates as possible._

_Fortunately, I have also some good news for you - Edith and I are coming for your wedding. We managed to convince Papa, and will be arriving in Dublin one day before the big event._

_I sincerely hope that the last bit of news cheered you up after the not-so-pleasant first part of my letter. We will talk more after I arrive in Dublin._

_Your most devoted sister,_

_Mary_

* * *

The letter was still lying on the table in Sybil's "room" when Mrs. Branson came for a dress fitting. The Branson family matriarch had offered to sew Sybil's wedding dress herself, only with the assistance of her eldest daughter, Megan. Sybil was once more incredibly touched by _yet_ another kind gesture of Mrs. Branson. Her gratitude was however mixed with sadness – she knew that the Branson family wasn't too thrilled with Tom's choice as well, but they nevertheless did they best to support Tom and accept Sybil as one of them. But those people were not affected by a rigid view of the world and a need to uphold a certain reputation about their family; here it was all only about giving support to each other, the "big world" and its opinions did not matter at all.

Mrs. Branson's strong voice awoke Sybil from her reverie.

"Do you still dwell upon that letter from your family?"

Direct, to-the-point question. This tendency was definitely hereditary in this family.

"I'm not letting it cloud my anticipation for the wedding, no. But I do think about it from time to time."

Mrs. Branson merely nodded before continuing, "You know that I'm always honest with you, my girl. I'm aware that you've already discussed this matter with Tom thoroughly, but I still want to tell you a few words… While I don't understand your family's attitude, it won't affect the way I behave towards you. I only must ask one more thing: are you sure you won't regret this?"

Mrs. Branson paused for a few seconds to look at Sybil; when she saw annoyance in the young woman's face, she immediately clarified, "I know that you love Tom, Sybil. I know that you were making your decision for a long time. I'm also aware that you're a sensible girl and that you do not want to marry Tom only in order to spite your parents. But now you've seen what it looks like in practice; you know what life in Dublin is like, and well, you've seen what sort of behaviour you can often expect from your family…"

Sybil took a deep breath. For a moment, she wanted to give Mrs. Branson a long speech in which she would describe what Tom meant to her and how important they were for one another. But then she realized that flowery speeches were not necessary to express the depth of one's feelings, and that there was more than one way to communicate what was in her mind and heart.

"Yes, I've seen how it is, and it only solidified my decision. Tom and I are not afraid of challenges. Actually, we're the source of each other's strength. That's all, that's it."

Just a short, simple utterance said in decisive voice, and it worked better than a long speech in an elevated language. The conviction in the young woman's voice affected Mrs. Branson. She liked that girl. Yes, she was still learning how to trust her. Too often did her nation fall into the trap of false kindness and friendship. One needed to be suspicious, even though open for the sake of family loyalty. Because this was how the Irish working class understood family loyalty – you supported the one who needed help, not stood by those who were in a dominant position. _Perhaps that's another thing in which we differ so much from the English_, Mrs. Branson observed.

The two women faced each other and smiled in understanding. They still needed to cross some distance to truly become mother and daughter, but they were closer to this goal with each day passing. Prejudices and reservations were gradually diminishing, and trust was forming between two women of completely different upbringings

Neither of them said anything more on the matter. Instead, they harmoniously focused their whole attention on Sybil's wedding dress.

* * *

As planned, Mary and Edith arrived in Dublin one day before the wedding. The beginning was most certainly awkward. Both sides expressed some difficulty in addressing each other by proper names. Sybil and Tom subsequently took their guests for a short introductory walk to Dublin. Only then did they go to Mrs. Branson's flat.

Mary and Edith were to sleep in the same room as Sybil. Especially for that purpose, Tom and his brother Cormac had carried two divans from Megan's house to their mother's flat.

Mrs. Branson was somewhat nervous about offering such modest accommodation to the daughters of an English lord; not that she was intimidated by who they were, but she wanted for her guests to feel as comfortable as possible, and she was well aware that the Crawley girls were accustomed to totally different conditions.

Sybil had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised by her sisters' behaviour, especially Mary's. While she had expected that Mary would be polite for her sake in the company of Mrs. Branson, she was nevertheless afraid of her sister's sarcastic comments and complaints once the matriarch left the room. But nothing of this sort happened. Instead, Mary sat comfortably on her divan and did not say even a word. Sybil noted also her elder sister's altered behavior towards Tom – Mary seemed now to be much kinder to him than before. _I suppose that it' s just her pragmatism working. But still, I'm so touched that she's employing it for my sake – because she at last sees that I won't change my mind and that my decision is final._

An awkward silence fell upon the room. All three of them were sitting on their beds in complete quietness. It was surprisingly Edith who spoke first.

"It's a rather unusual situation, isn't?" she uttered slowly in a slightly bashful voice, "that the three of us are sleeping in the same room… when was the last time such a thing happened?"

"When Sybil was around five, and afraid of storm in the night. You and me came to her room and stayed there till the morning," whispered Mary.

Sybil gave both of her sisters a radiant smile. "See, and now again we are all three together in a room because of me."

At those words, all the Crawley girls had to look at each other and smile because Sybil had always been the linking element between the three of them.

"So," Edith continued her last thought now in a much more confident voice, "why don't we celebrate this special occasion by not talking about any serious matters? Let us focus on gossip, cheerful memories and anecdotes. No problems, no difficulties, no sadness."

Mary suddenly smirked and began rummaging in her baggage before retrieving a bottle of wine from it.

"Granny had given me this before we left for Dublin. She told me that we would need to raise a glass to Sybil's end of freedom."

The two remaining young women chuckled, and Sybil rose from her bed and announced that she was going to the kitchen to bring some glasses.

Mary and Edith did not even notice that they were not attended by any servants that night.

* * *

It began to dawn when Sybil opened her eyes. She was definitely too excited to sleep anymore; she had actually forced herself (with a bit of help from a glass of wine) to fall asleep a few hours earlier. Now, it was no longer possible for her to lie still.

The young woman glanced at the clock on the nearby table. It was four in the morning. She didn't need to be awake for at least five hours. Lazily, she rose from the bed and headed towards the window.

_This is the last few hours that I'm living in this flat. Tomorrow I'll be looking at Dublin from the window at our new home. Tomorrow… it won't be Sybil Crawley who'll be looking from the window at her new home, but… Mrs. Sybil Branson._

A joyous thrill in spine made her grin from anticipation. _Tomorrow._

An unexpected sight put an end to her ponderings. _It can't be…_

But it _was_ Tom Branson who was standing on the street, just below her window. Sybil did not want to waste even a minute; she quickly put on the same dress that she had worn yesterday, and quietly left the room.

A few minutes later, she stood on the street next to her fiancé, but Tom did not utter even a word upon seeing her.

"What's wrong with you? Can't you recognize me?" Sybil finally teased.

Tom shook his head. "I do. I just… didn't expect to find you here so early."

Sybil laughed merrily. "And I should not be surprised?"

"You most certainly should, " Tom grinned at her and proceeded to explain his surprising walk at four o'clock in the morning, "I just… woke up and couldn't sleep because I'm completely and utterly impatient to be married to you."

"Same here," declared Sybil and snuggled closer to him. In response, Tom embraced her tightly and placed the sweetest of kisses on her hair.

"I can't believe that it's really happening… after all those years," Sybil's whisper broke the delicious silence of the still slumbering city.

Tom chuckled, "I think that it's me who should say so."

"I know, dearest, I know. But believe me – I dreamed about this for as long as you did, and in fact, I was more doubtful about the fulfilment of such a dream than you."

Tom smiled at her tenderly and murmured into her ear, "There's no need to talk about all those years of dreams and longing now. Today we're getting married and this is what counts."

Sybil nodded and looked at the sky above her which was gradually getting brighter and brighter. There were even no more stars in human sight but one. How beautiful, though, it was!

"People call it the Morning Star, but it's Venus in reality," Tom said quietly, reading into his fiancee's thoughts.

"You promised me once to take me somewhere where we can lie and look at the stars."

"Soon, love, I promise."

"And you won't break this pledge because otherwise Venus, the goddess of love, will punish you," the young woman declared mischievously.

"Have I ever broken any promise to you?"

"No," stated Sybil firmly and kissed him ardently to seal their newest vow.

* * *

**A/N How lucky I am that in June the S/T fandom Rocks the AU! Wedding Style? ;)**


	6. Preparing for the Big Event 1920

_Once again, thank you for all the words of encouragement :)  
_

_Now it's time to return (as expected) to 1920. Hope that you'll enjoy this chapter as well._

* * *

**Preparing for the Big Event 1920**

* * *

_My heart is like a singing bird_

_Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; _

_My heart is like an apple-tree _

_Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit; _

_My heart is like a rainbow shell _

_That paddles in a halcyon sea; _

_My heart is gladder than all these, _

_Because my love is come to me. _

_Raise me a daïs of silk and down; _

_Hang it with vair and purple dyes; _

_Carve it in doves and pomegranates, _

_And peacocks with a hundred eyes; _

_Work it in gold and silver grapes, _

_In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys; _

_Because the birthday of my life _

_Is come, my love is come to me. _

- **Christina Rossetti "A Birthday"**

**September 1920**

After what had happened in the drawing room, the Bransons decided to break the news about Saoirse's christening to each member of the family separately - they couldn't risk another display of violent emotions.

Sybil undertook to tell Lord Grantham on her own that his granddaughter would be christened in the Catholic faith. She felt that it was a conversation that needed to be held just between the two of them and that it would be better to clarify certain things to her father before he had any talk about the matter with Tom.

When Robert Crawley heard the news, he turned pale and clenched his fists in silent annoyance.

"Why do you do as _he_ pleases?" Robert finally uttered.

"I don't do what _Tom_ wants, I do what I think is the right thing to do. There's nothing wrong in doing things for the one you love as long as you judge that it is the right thing. I love Tom, and I know that christening Saoirse in the Catholic faith will make him happy. And if it makes him happy, it will make me happy as well."

"Do you feel no connection to the faith that _you_ were baptized into?"

Sybil pondered that question for a while, trying to choose the most appropriate answer. She certainly did not want to offend her father nor did she want to enrage him even more.

"I... well, feel connection to the Christian faith, but not to the Anglican Church itself. As long as my daughter is baptized in the Christian faith, I don't mind."

Only upon seeing Lord Grantham's face did Sybil realize that she had said the worst thing possible; if she had stated that she felt affinity to the Anglican Church, but not to the Christian faith itself, it would have been much better received by the man in front of her.

Robert Crawley remained silent for a few minutes before muttering in a hushed voice, "So… you feel no affinity to the life that I have given you. I suppose that I should have already become accustomed to it."

Sybil felt anger rising in her veins. She could understand her father not accepting her choices, but she could not stand his unjust opinion.

"No, Papa. I'm deeply grateful to you for the life and the faith that you've given me, and I respect the values that you choose to adhere to. I'm not ashamed of my heritage nor do I wish to disregard it; but I want to make my own choices in life and I don't intend to be bound by what my heritage imposes upon me. For example, my support for the Irish cause does not mean that I'm no longer English or proud to be English…"

Here Sybil decided to pause for a while in order to see Robert's reaction. He, in turn, stared at her in complete silence, his expression undecipherable. As a result, the young woman made up her mind to continue the speech: "And I've married a man of a completely different upbringing to mine, Papa. Each marriage is based on compromise. I have to respect his heritage as much as he respects mine."

At those words, Lord Grantham cut in, "Why is it always _you_ who makes compromises?"

Sybil felt a need to take a deep breath before responding, "It only seems to you as such, Papa, because you don't really know Tom and you have a biased and prejudiced image of him in your mind. Tom has made many sacrifices and compromises for my and Saoirse's sake. Even the fact that he stayed at Downton even though he does not like being here shows his great willingness to compromise… Papa, if you could see those people in Dublin… what their religion means to them, to Tom…"

Robert's nostrils flare, "Do you really think that English people do not care for their religion?"

Sybil was stunned and incredibly disappointed. She thought that her father had at least listened to her and had come to understand her point of view, but instead he dwelt on something that she hadn't even said. The young woman again felt anger bubbling inside her.

"Papa, don't tell me now that you care that much about your faith. Yes, you attend all the church events and dine with bishops, but you're definitely not a very religious person."

"Sybil, you know that I don't like Catholics and their strange rituals…"

At that moment, Sybil realized that further conversation would lead to nowhere. She turned on her heel and walked towards the door.

"Will you come to your granddaughter's christening?"

A direct, simple question. He had rather expected a display of anger, but no. She stood there on the threshold, a quiet, but firm figure, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know."

The soft sound of closing the door informed him that Sybil had left the room without a further word.

* * *

The afternoon was truly lovely. It was a warm, early September day, and the nostalgic atmosphere of a diminishing summer was felt acutely in the air. A day perfect for outdoor gatherings under the still shining brightly sun.

The Branson family spent that afternoon accompanied by the young part of the Crawley clan. There was a lot of lemonade, light chatter and laughing. However, it was undeniable that something or rather someone else was in the centre of everyone's attention.

Little Saoirse Branson was the queen of the little family gathering. Everyone felt that it was a privilege to hold her, so she spent the afternoon on being adored by her parents, aunts and uncle. Saoirse was, after all, the first child born into the Crawley family for twenty three years.

Sybil couldn't help but notice that Saoirse brought not only smiles upon her sisters and brother-in-law's faces; she could also spot a note of certain sadness in their eyes. She knew why: Edith felt that she would never be able to hold her own child, whereas Mary and Matthew wondered why they had wasted all those years and did not produce the first Crawley grandson as it should have been.

"Do you have all planned for the christening?" Matthew suddenly inquired.

"We have a lot done, thank you. The date is set and the church is 'booked', if I it's appropriate to say so. I've also contacted my brother, Kieran, whom we want to be Saoirse's godfather, " replied Tom.

"Oh, you've never mentioned him before. Are you close friends?"

"Actually… we're far from close, but we need to have at least one Catholic godparent if we want to hold a Catholic christening."

"Indeed… it's doubtful whether you'll find a Catholic godparent here, " Matthew admitted.

"Speaking of which," Sybil decided to cut in and gave Tom a suggestive look, "we would like to ask Mary to be Saoirse's godmother."

"Yes, we would be greatly honoured," Tom immediately supported his wife.

All eyes turned towards Mary, whose face definitely brightened up at that request. She gave her sister and brother-in-law a pleasant smile and accepted her new role.

Everyone cheered and began talking excitedly about the upcoming event.

Sybil, however, realized something worrying. She noticed that Mary's genuine smile at her and Tom's request was in fact the _first_ genuine smile that her sister wore that afternoon. Yes, Mary had smiled numerous times today, but right now Sybil realized that those had been mostly forced smiles, as expected of anyone holding a little infant.

Sybil decided to look at Mary closer. Unfortunately, her previous observations were confirmed – Mary smiled a lot, but rather because she felt that she needed to smile than out of true happiness.

Unexpectedly, the eldest Crawley sister stood up and announced, "I have a terrible headache and need to lie down for a while" in an icy tone. A worried Matthew decided to join her, and Sybil had a nagging suspicion that she began to understand what it was all about.

Consequently, only four of them remained at the table. While Sybil and Tom exchanged telling looks, Edith was fidgeting nervously in her chair before asking, "Have you read the… novel that I gave you?"

Both Sybil and Tom immediately turned their attention towards the middle Crawley sister, and sent her encouraging smiles.

"I did, " Tom informed her, "and Sybil did too. When I started reading it, I liked it so much that I felt a need to share it with her."

"We both enjoyed your novel greatly," Sybil quickly added, "a satire on the contemporary upper classes? Something definitely for the middle-class people like us."

Edith's face brightened up, "Thank you. It means a lot. Truly."

The Bransons were well aware how much each compliment meant for Edith.

"So, what do you want to do with it now?" Tom asked his sister-in-law.

"Excuse me?"

"You shouldn't just keep it in the drawer. Why don't you try to find a publisher? I can bet that someone will want to buy this book – a novel criticizing the aristocracy written by the daughter of an Earl? It'll be an instant success, if you ask me."

"That's a great idea!" Sybil backed her husband up.

Edith looked at the two of them, dumbfounded. "But how will everyone react? Papa? Granny? They'll never allow me to publish anything, let alone something like that."

"You can publish it under a pseudonym," Tom suggested.

"Tom's right. Besides, Edith, do not let Papa and Granny tell you what to do with your life or that what you do is wrong. Actually, I have an idea: why won't you go to London to visit Aunt Rosamund? No one will question anything, and you may search for a publisher there during your visit?"

Edith couldn't find words enough to tell her sister and brother-in-law just _how _much she liked that plan.

* * *

In the evening, the Bransons indulged in one of their habits that was also against Downton rules – they took Saoirse to the bed with them. As Sybil and Saoirse were lying comfortably in the bed, Tom was trying to write another article to send to the English press.

"Have you received an answer from _The English Weekly_?" Sybil's voice broke the lazy silence.

"I did."

"So?"

"How could the outcome be any different, darling? The response was negative."

Sybil inwardly sighed. She started to truly worry about Tom's job prospects, but she didn't want to say it aloud because she was afraid that the subject of Liverpool would reappear.

"I will at least talk to Kieran about it, all right?" Tom suddenly asked.

Sybil merely nodded. There was no danger in just learning more about any possible prospects in Liverpool when their future was really hard to predict. As much as she hated to admit it, they might need that option sometime in the future. She was well aware that Tom could not stay at Downton for too long.

"Have you told your family that you'll soon start working at the hospital?"

"I'll tell them after the christening. Better not to vex them before the event."

"Indeed."

Tom began writing faster just for the sake of writing something because he was not able to focus on the article properly at that moment. He felt frustration bubbling inside him; frustration and the sense of uselessness. On the other hand, he _did_ want to achieve something in his journalistic career – for himself and for Sybil. Oh, Sybil. She had always been his inspiration and source of strength and he knew that, no matter what, she would always be.

He finally realized that he would not write anything coherent right now, put the pen down and headed for the bed only to find his wife and daughter already sleeping. He smiled tenderly at the endearing picture, climb to the bed, and took them both into a close embrace.

* * *

**A/N The title of the newspaper is fictional_._**

**And yes, next time is the wedding chapter ;)  
**


	7. The Big Event 1919

_First and foremost - I'm very sorry for the long wait. It was a mixture of several reasons (including lack of muse). Thank you once more for all the reviews, favourites, and follows :) They're greatly appreciated and make my day! ;)_

* * *

**The Big Event 1919**

* * *

_"Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God." _**- Ruth 1: 16-17**

_It's this day. It's this day. In three hours I shall become Mrs. Sybil Branson. I still can't believe it. I was so scared to even dream about this a few years ago… Now it's reality... How can I not burst from joy? I'm marrying the only man I can ever love, my soulmate, the love of my life… How did I get so lucky? To meet such a man, to fall in love with him and to be loved in return… I've never expected that you can love this way. So deeply, so madly… How could I marry anyone else? It would not be possible. If I couldn't marry Tom, I wouldn't marry anyone... But I am marrying him, I truly am!_

Sybil felt that her chest could burst from happiness and excitement. To her surprise, there was no cold feet involved. She had been dreaming about becoming Mrs. Branson for too long to have any second thoughts now. _Today._

She stood in front of the mirror. Mary, Edith, Mrs. Branson and Megan were helping her to get dressed. It was a difficult job because the bride-to-be was too excited to stay patiently in one place. The dress was simple, but elegant, just as Sybil had wanted it to be. She hated any sort of extravaganza, but at the same time did want to look special on this day as well as express her high respect for the institution of matrimony.

At one point, Mary left the room only to return a few minutes later with the Crawley family tiara in her hands.

"Here, darling, Mama asked us to take it for you."

Sybil couldn't help but smile at her mother's thoughtfulness, though it had also make her feel a bit awkward because she knew that she couldn't wear the tiara. "I'm very grateful, but I can't wear this tiara today," the young woman finally managed to say. Seeing shock on everyone's faces, she clarified, "It's not because I do not value or respect the family heirloom… but I've chosen my life and it is different from the life that this tiara symbolizes. I can't wear it. Besides, it does not suit the rest of my wedding outfit."

Mrs. Branson looked at her appreciatively, Megan gave her a sheepish smile, Edith looked a bit surprised, and Mary… well, she seemed to be rather displeased, but that did not discourage Sybil from doing what she thought was a right thing to do.

* * *

_It's this day. It's really happening. I'm going to marry Sybil Crawley…_

_It seems so improbable…_

_I've never thought that I could love anyone in SUCH a way. But I do. And she's marrying me. Even though she's a lady. I remember… when she said nothing back in York, how my hopes and dreams seemed shattered then. Now she'll be my wife… I truly, truly can't comprehend this. She sacrifices so much for me…_

_I just feel her love. It's odd, but I always felt it even when my mind doubted it. _

_Our connection is so incomprehensible, but oh so beautiful…_

_Today…_

Tom was grinning like crazy when he was getting dressed for his own wedding. He glanced at himself in the mirror and decided that he looked appropriately smart. Now all he needed was to wait for Liam, his friend who was also going to be his best man.

_It's truly, truly today._

* * *

When Sybil and Mary remained alone in the room, there was palpable tension in the air.

Sybil was the one who broke the silence. "Mary, listen. I'm grateful for your coming and bringing the tiara with you, but…"

"But?" the eldest Crawley sister's tone was now icy and demanding a clear-cut answer.

"I told you, it does not suit the life I'm embarking on today!"

"So, do you want to give _everything_ up? Including your family? So completely?"

Sybil was lost momentarily for words before replying, "I think that we've had this conversation already? I'm not giving anyone up. I wanted all my family here, but not all of them accept my choices. It's them who are giving me up. But you know what? I can understand their behavior and do not judge them. They need time. Mary, please don't judge me as well."

Mary bit her lip nervously. "I'm here, aren't I? I wouldn't have come if I wanted to judge you. Though I can't deny that the path that you're choosing is far from the one that I want to follow. I don't understand how one can reject a family heirloom…"

"The fact that I'm choosing a different life to the one the rest of my family lead does not mean that I'm rejecting _them_."

"For me, family heirlooms are part of one's identity…"

Sybil groaned. "Mary, let us agree that we do not see eye to eye on this matter, all right?"

Her elder sister sighed, "Stubborn as always, but I don't want to enter into any quarrels with you on your wedding day, darling."

"Glad that we agree at least on this matter," Sybil teased to relieve the tension.

"I know that I won't convince you to change your mind, so I intend to be on your side and support you through what you're going to do. I'm your sister, after all."

"I'll do what I can to support you as well… but tell me… how are things between you and Sir Richard?"

Mary's face turned into a blank mask, dignified and emotionless. However, Sybil could sense strong feelings of dissatisfaction emanating from her sister's expressionless demeanor.

"Everyone is different. My situation may be incomprehensible for you, but it's all right for me. I don't approve of your choices, but I try to understand you, and I hope that you can do the same for me, " Mary finally uttered. _It may be not my dreamt reality, but a bearable one. I can find some satisfaction in it even though it will not be a life from a fairy tale. I may be happy, don't you worry about me. I'm not you._

Sybil merely nodded and rushed to offer Mary a comforting, sisterly embrace.

And Mary accepted it.

* * *

"So Tom, who even as a boy did not dream to marry a princess, weds one after all. How do your socialist beliefs agree with it?" Liam teased his best friend.

"Political beliefs mean nothing when it comes to love, " Tom replied simply.

"Maybe, but still, an English aristocrat? As I said, even as a young boy you had socialist leanings and never dreamt about princesses, and now…"

"Just get better acquainted with her, and you'll understand. Her politics are more similar to mine than to her family's. Actually, it was politics that turned us into friends in the first place."

"From what I saw of her, she seems like a nice lass, " Liam smiled at his friend encouragingly.

"She's _very_ nice, I can assure you, " Tom said decisively, "actually, why not get our wives better acquainted with each other? Sybil needs to have some friends here."

"Good idea, we can arrange a meeting for the four of us. And then our children will get married, " Liam chuckled, and the two friends exchanged a warm hug.

"Good luck!" Liam whispered into Tom's ear.

* * *

_Soon, just get to the church, say the vows and you'll be Tom's wife…_

* * *

_Soon, I will be Sybil Crawley's husband…_

* * *

"I, Tom, take you, Sybil,"

_My darling, I'm really taking you as my wife…_

"for my lawful wife,"

_Bound not only by law, but most importantly in our hearts..._

"to have and to hold, from this day forward,"

_I could hold you in my arms for eternity…_

"for better, for worse, in sickness and in health,"

_I'll never leave your side no matter what…_

"until death do us part."

_Love like ours binds even after death._

* * *

"I, Sybil, take you, Tom,"

_It's always been only you…_

_"_for my lawful husband,"

_Society has to treat us seriously… we're lawfully joined from now on, you and me, dearest…_

"to have and to hold, from this day forward,"

_I never want to be parted from you, never…_

"for better, for worse, in sickness and in health,"

_Together we can deal with everything…_

"until death do us part."

_For eternity._

* * *

The vows were exchanged, the mass ended, and the radiant newlyweds left the church hand in hand. They were both an image of utmost happiness, holding each other lovingly and looking at each other as if the world around had ceased to exist.

All the guests felt that the wedding they had just attended was a celebration of love.

Outside the church, the couple decided to kiss quite passionately in front of all the guests. Even though there was a number of older ladies present, no one showed any sign of indignation. Mary and Edith, despite having been brought up in an environment where displays of affection were rare, did not even notice that anything improper was going on – it was all so natural and charming that no one could question it.

The reception was a quiet one. It was held at Megan's house and attended only by the Branson family, their closest friends, and Sybil's sisters. The food was prepared by Mrs. Branson, Megan and the bride herself because Sybil had not wanted to burden the two women with even more work as well had thought it an excellent opportunity to have more cooking lessons. The music was provided by a band consisting solely of the Branson family's friends and acquaintances.

Mary and Edith could experience first-hand how much an Irish wedding differed from an English one. Edith soon joined the merry dancers, whereas Mary decided to sit and watch, but she was polite to everyone, so Sybil did not have to worry about any tension between the two newly joined families.

She and Tom also showed everyone a real Irish dance to a large applause and huge approval from the Branson family.

Ultimately, the newlywed couple felt that they needed some privacy and headed for the small adjacent room. There, Tom was finally able to take his bride into his arms.

"Finally, just the two of us," sighed Sybil contentedly.

"We must return shortly or they'll be worried."

"I know, but let me delight in this moment for a while," his wife (_HIS WIFE!)_ whispered and laid her head on his shoulder.

"You know that I meant every word today? I want to hold you forever," Tom murmured tenderly.

"I know precisely what it feels like," Sybil smiled at her husband (_HER HUSBAND_!) and gave him a sound kiss.

A moment later they had to break the kiss in order to breathe, but they still didn't want to let go of each other.

"From this day forward," Tom whispered as he began showering his bride's face with ardent kisses. Sybil could only grin like a Cheshire cat and relish in feeling Tom's lips throughout her face.

"Where are they? Where are the newlyweds?" was suddenly heard from the nearby room. The young couple understood that it was time to go back to their guests.

"From this day forward," said Sybil as she outstretched her hand to Tom, who took it and brought it to his heart.

_Therefore a man shall leave_ _his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh._


	8. The Big Event 1920

_As always, thank you for all the reviews and kind words! They're really motivating ;)_

* * *

**The Big Event 1920**

* * *

_ Then he [Jesus] put a little child among them. Taking the child in his arms, he said to them, "Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not only me but also my Father who sent me."_**– Mark 9: 36-37**

**September 1920**

_She's so beautiful... a true miracle of life. I want to always be able to protect her from the evils of the world, though I know that this isn't possible... Hopefully, I'll be able to bring her up so that she'll be a strong woman able to deal with all that's painful and wrong... She's so similar to Sybil, that's a good sign. I know her for just a month, and I'm already head over heels in love with her. It may not seem like a fitting comparison for me, but she's our little princess; and our little angel sent to us._

Tom couldn't help but look with admiration at Sybil dressing Saoirse in an baptismal outfit. He felt so full of love for these two women. The little one definitely looked like a small angel in her white robe.

"You two just look like Madonna and the Holy Child right now," he whispered tenderly to his wife.

Sybil beamed and put Saoirse close to her chest. "Every child is holy to its parents, isn't it?"

Tom just _had to_ move closer to the two most important people in his life.

"Come, St. Joseph, and sit with us," Sybil laughed encouragingly and pointed at the place on the sofa next to her.

Tom did not need any further encouragement; he quickly sat beside his wife and put both Sybil and Saoirse in a close embrace, just like he had done when they had shared their first family moment.

Subsequently, the sun finally decided to shine stronger on that otherwise gloomy day, and the little family became wholly covered in sunlight.

Tom and Sybil laughed joyfully. Both knew that it was a perfect moment for a little kiss. A kiss that didn't turn out to be little, though, it needs to be said.

Not to mention that they were also aware that for them _every_ moment could be suitable for a little kissing session.

* * *

Robert Crawley decided not to go for his granddaughter's christening after all, though he did not intend to forbid attending the event to any other member of the family. He was well aware that both his mother and his wife were going, but this fact wouldn't change his mind.

In order to avoid any talks from Cora, he decided to hide in the library until the family departed for the church. He sat with a book on the sofa and waited, resolute not to allow anybody to talk to him and try to convince him to go to the christening.

But he didn't expect _her_, of all the people, to come.

Robert didn't even notice how _she_ had entered the room. At one moment, he simply raised his eyes from the book that he was reading, and then he saw _her_ standing next to him.

He had to admit that she looked beautiful in a dark green dress that complemented her blue eyes and black hair so well.

"Papa," Sybil began the conversation. Her voice was peaceful and not at all tainted with anger or annoyance. "I've come to ask you to think once more about your decision. I'm not asking this for me or Tom, but for Saoirse. It's not her fault, Papa. You can have your problems with me or Tom, but do not punish your granddaughter, who's got your blood in her veins, for her parent's choices. Maybe you feel like I've rejected the life that you gave me, and while I don't agree with this, I can sooner understand your stance with respect to me than a one month old child."

Lord Grantham swallowed nervously, but Sybil continued, "You showed your disapproval by not coming to our wedding. Isn't it enough? Even if you choose to continue to disapprove of my marriage, please do not disapprove of your granddaughter."

Robert felt that Sybil's words were reasonable, and her firm, but non-confrontational tone did have an effect on him. His previous resolution was breaking. _What wrong would it do to show a unified family front at the christening?_

For the time being, however, he tried to evade a direct answer and asked the first question that came to his mind, "What's her middle name, after all?"

Sybil realized that it was only an attempt by her father to diverge from the topic, but was nevertheless glad to provide him with an answer to it, "It's Sybil. Yes, Tom insisted on that, but surely you won't question his motives behind this choice?"

No, indeed, he couldn't.

Having seen her father's hesitance, Sybil decided to ask a straightforward question: "So, will you come to Saoirse's christening?"

Lord Grantham silently nodded even though he couldn't even pinpoint what made him change his mind.

* * *

"Saoirse Sybil, ego te baptize in nomine Patris, et Filli, et Spiritus Sancti."*

_I'm so happy that our little girl is baptized into the Catholic faith. It means a lot to me, especially now that I don't know when I can see Ireland again. A granddaughter of an English aristocrat is baptized into the Catholic faith during the Anglo-Irish war and has an Irish name which means "freedom"… And it's all thanks to Sybil, my darling, dearest, loveliest Sybil… She wanted to make me happy, and she did.. I'm so thankful to God that Saoirse is so similar to her. I'm also happy about her middle name… Boys are so often named after their fathers, why can't a little girl have a name after her mother? What's more, such a wonderful mother…_

* * *

_What a joyful day! Our little girl is baptized in front of my whole family! It's a pity that, except for Kieran, Tom's family can't be here. I'm happy that at least Saoirse is baptized into the Catholic faith and has an Irish name… It's not important only for Tom, but for me as well. And Tom looks so happy! He's sometimes in low spirits lately because he still can't find a job, but now he's so radiant! I love his smile so much… He also had it on his face when he asked me whether Saoirse could have "Sybil" as a middle name. How could I say "no" when I was the one who chose her first name (and we always want to be equals!), and I know that this makes him happy as well? I so love to see him smiling and happy…_

* * *

The sun was now shining brightly through the church windows, directly at the overjoyed parents and a slumbering infant. Robert Crawley couldn't help but think that they looked as if they had been taken from the pictures that hung throughout the church. A picturesque family indeed! They truly seemed to be happy together. Suddenly, the baby awoke from her sleep and began fussing in her mother's arms. The girl's small mouth opened in a loud cry, and Robert realized that he just saw her whole face for the first time.

_And I'm her grandfather… Maybe Sybil's right – what did this child do to be disapproved of? It's such a vulnerable, innocent little person?_

The fragility of Saoirse Branson filled Robert with unexpected feelings of self-doubt and regret. He immediately tried to fight them off and focused on the mass instead, but this was followed by an annoyance resulting from not understanding anything. _Stupid Catholics and their weird Latin rites!_

He looked again at his daughter and her small family – they still were a picture of utmost happiness. Both Sybil and Bra… Tom were completely concentrated on calming Saoirse (nothing would change his mind that this name was just plain stupid) down, gently rocking the little girl, and not stopped smiling even for a while during the whole ordeal.

_Whatever I may think about them, they do seem truly happy…_

* * *

After a festive post-christening dinner and saying goodnight to Saoirse in the nursery, the Bransons headed for their bedroom. Once they were both in bed and in each other arms, they were finally able to share the observations that they had made during the whole day.

"Kieran behaved quite well… despite that constant nagging about beer, of course," remarked Tom, "I expected worse, knowing his_love_ for the English aristocracy and its habits."

"My family was surprisingly patient. All in all, indeed it wasn't as bad as we had expected."

"Speaking of Kieran… I talked to him about any possible prospects for me in Liverpool."

Sybil's whole body tensed. It was definitely what she was dreading to hear. "What are they, then?" she ultimately managed to mumble.

"Not bad, actually. There is a possibility of a job that fits my qualifications and renting a flat at a low price. Plus, Kieran's children may take care of Saoirse when we both will be at work."

"But it is a mechanic work?"

"Of course."

A heavy silence fell upon the spouses. Neither Sybil nor Tom knew what to say next, which was a rare occurrence between them.

"Another newspaper rejected me, Sybil."

Sybil bit her lip nervously. To be honest, she didn't know what to say or do anymore.

"There's also something else… I talked to Matthew today after the dinner. Apparently, your father's estate manager has decided to leave. And Matthew, well, he wants to propose to your father to hire me."

Sybil's eyes grew wide. "But why? Since when you're skilled in estate managing?"

"I'm not, but I've given Matthew a few tips about modernizing Downton recently, and now he thinks that I've got the talent. He says that the most important thing is to have someone whom you trust to do the job, and that I'll learn quickly how to do it… So, what do you think?"

Sybil was too surprised by this news to answer immediately. She looked at her husband inquisitively in order to see what he thought about this idea, but Tom's face was expressionless.

"I… don't know what to think about it. Is it even in agreement with your beliefs?"

"Trying to preserve an aristocratic estate and thus perpetuating the class system? No. But you and Saoirse are more important for me than my beliefs. I need to support you as well as I can, and I don't want to live on your father's generosity anymore. "

Sybil took a deep breath. "Please, wait a little longer. I don't want you to sacrifice your beliefs for my sake. You now see everything in a bad light, but some better opportunity must come along eventually. Just wait a little longer. I know that you can be patient. Remember how long you waited for me?" she smiled weakly at him.

Tom sighed. "You are worth everything, that's the difference. I fear that I'll need to decide between Liverpool and Matthew's offer soon."

"Don't abandon your dreams and don't throw away everything you've achieved to this point, please…"

"The point is, Sybil," Tom said in a surprisingly rough tone, "that I feel useless as of late. You can't understand this because you'll be starting your work at the hospital soon."

Having said so, Tom gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek and without a further word turned on his side and closed his eyes.

* * *

* _Saoirse Sybil, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit_

* * *

**Well, not everything is a bed of roses, right? :P **_  
_

**Next up:**

**"Fighting for Your Dreams 1919"**


	9. Fighting for Your Dreams 1919

_Yes, yet another chapter from me. I hope that the breaks between chapters are not too short?_

_Traditionally, thank you for all the words of encouragement!_

* * *

**Fighting for Your Dreams 1919**

* * *

_Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave  
A paradise for a sect; the savage too  
From forth the loftiest fashion of his sleep  
Guesses at Heaven; pity these have not  
Trac'd upon vellum or wild Indian leaf  
The shadows of melodious utterance.  
But bare of laurel they live, dream, and die;  
For Poesy alone can tell her dreams,  
With the fine spell of words alone can save  
Imagination from the sable charm  
And dumb enchantment. Who alive can say,  
'Thou art no Poet may'st not tell thy dreams?'  
Since every man whose soul is not a clod  
Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved  
And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.  
Whether the dream now purpos'd to rehearse  
Be poet's or fanatic's will be known  
When this warm scribe my hand is in the grave._

– **John Keats - "The Fall of Hyperion"**

**June 1919**

"I love you so, so much," murmured Sybil as she leant her face closer to her husband's. Tom was still sleeping, but the touch of Sybil's lips on his mouth immediately woke him up. He blinked and smiled at his still newlywed wife. "So, today it is you who wakes me up? Lovely," he muttered and tightened his embrace around her. Sybil smiled in return and snuggled herself closer to his chest, sighing contentedly.

"I love our mornings. I even try to wake up earlier so that we'll have more time for just lying in bed together," she confessed.

"Me too. Though every minute with you is precious," whispered Tom and began nuzzling her hair.

Sybil giggled. "Is this some sort of competition? Then I love every second spent with you."

Her husband was too preoccupied with kissing her hair to answer immediately.

"No competitions, darling. Just love," he ultimately responded.

"I still can't believe it. You and me, just lying in the bed in the morning, so closely intertwined…"

"A proof that dreams sometimes come true," Tom beamed.

"Hopefully another of my dreams will come true…"

Tom knew precisely what his wife was talking about. Today she was going for a meeting at a hospital to try to get a job as a nurse again. For the _fourth_ time.

"I wonder what they all must think about me there. Crazy?"

"No, a determined and strong-minded woman," stated Tom decisively as he placed a comforting kiss to her temple.

"We'll see. I think it's time for me to get up and make you some breakfast so that you won't go hungry to work."

"No, darling. Today I'm going to make breakfast and bring it to you to bed. After all, you have a hard day ahead of you", Tom said, kissed his wife for the last time, and got out of bed.

Some time later, he reappeared in the bedroom, carrying a small tray with scrambled eggs, a slice of bread, and a cup of tea. Sybil grinned when she saw him, but once he put the tray on her lap, she realized that she couldn't take even a bite – she was just too nervous.

Tom sensed what was going on and leant to whisper into her ear, "Everything will be fine, but you need to have some energy in order to face the day. And remember that I love you so, so much."

Sybil's eyes watered as she held out her hand for a fork.

* * *

It was raining when Sybil approached the hospital. Heavy clouds covered the sky in its whole, making it impossible for the sun rays to break through. Sybil's mood was dark as well. Truth be told, she began to feel disheartened about the whole matter, though she knew that it was not in her nature to give up. She raised her hand to take away a lock of hair from her face, and her gaze fell upon a gold band on her finger. Her wedding ring. _Darling, darling Tom. He so believes in me. How can I nurture such dark thoughts when I have such a wonderful husband waiting for me at home?_

She smiled, and with a new boost of confidence, boldly opened the hospital door.

The room in which Sybil was interviewed was sterile and gloomy, and the matron that was interviewing her, Miss Flanagan, stern-looking, but each time the young woman felt her heart clench in panic, she looked at her wedding ring. This never failed to lift her spirits.

"So, Mrs. Branson, it's the third time you're applying for a job at our hospital?"

"Actually, its… the _fourth_," Sybil mumbled and mentally prepared herself for enduring the matron's strict gaze.

The older woman's face, however, expressed no distinguishable emotions.

"Why is it so important for you to get this job? Are you and your husband experiencing hard times?"

"No, my husband's salary is enough for the two of us, though I won't pretend that any additional money wouldn't be appreciated. But I simply want to work. I want to feel useful, and I love working as a nurse."

Miss Flanagan's brow furrowed. Sybil didn't know what to make of this.

"You're well aware that your work experience is not exceptional? You've only worked as a nurse at a convalescent house that was your family's residence at the same time."

"I've also worked at the hospital in the village…"

"Village that belongs to your family as well. How can I trust that you know what real, hard work looks like? Your aristocratic upbringing, Mrs. Branson, for sure has influenced your habits."

Sybil felt anger bubbling inside her. She didn't know what to say to express what she thought on the matter and at the same time be completely polite. In desperation, she glanced once more at the band on her finger. It worked yet again.

"The doctor that was in charge of the hospital gave me no special treatment. I might have lived at the house that hosted the patients, but that didn't mean I didn't have to wake up early or work late shifts. That I was brought up as an aristocrat is not adequate information about my character. I don't believe that class determines who you are, also if you were born into privilege."

Miss Flanagan was momentarily rendered speechless before saying, "You definitely have the spirit and determination, Mrs. Branson. I think that we may employ your for a trial period and see how it goes."

* * *

When Tom came back home after work, his wife immediately flew herself into his arms with a joyful shriek: "I've got it, Tom! I've got the job!". He kissed her in response and murmured into her ear, "I knew it, I knew it." Then, he twirled her around cheerfully.

There was so much joy in the small flat that day, and things like burnt dinner or bills to pay could not affect the happy couple's mood in the slightest.

* * *

A few days later, the Bransons went to a small party organized by Liam and his wife Caroline. Throughout the gathering, Sybil couldn't help but appreciate the Irish people's spirit and their ability to have fun. This still amazed her, even though she had already attended several Irish parties. She also came to adore Irish beer, and was now joyfully sipping a glass of it in the corner as Tom talked to his long-time-no-see friends from school.

Sybil was well aware that one of the purposes of this party was to introduce her to some of Caroline's female friends. During the course of the meeting, the young Mrs. Branson noticed that one of the women was staring intently at her. The woman's name was Maureen O'Donnell and she worked at a small shop nearby the Bransons' flat.

Ultimately, Maureen decided to talk to Sybil, and Sybil learnt why exactly the young Irishwoman was so interested in her.

"Mrs. Branson…"

"Sybil."

"Sybil, I…" Maureen stuttered, "I wanted to share with you something… I feel so alone with this… I don't think anyone here can understand me, except for you."

Sybil was surprised by this confession, but nevertheless encouraged Maureen to speak further.

"I… met a man with whom I fell head over heels in love. The problem is… Sean is an English soldier stationing in Dublin."

At that moment, Sybil knew why the Irishwoman thought that she was the only person who could understand her.

"Now with the war happening… I'm from the family of Irish republicans, and my brother was killed in the Easter Rising… my family will be furious if they ever learn about our attachment."

"Do you want to legitimize your union?"

"It's our dream," Maureen uttered with a sigh, "we thought about running away, but I know that this would hurt my parents immensely."

Sybil pondered her answer carefully for some time before saying, "I know that it's a difficult decision, one that requires careful consideration. However, I believe that it is always worth fighting for your dreams, and for love."

"Not everyone is as brave as you are, Sybil," Maureen replied with a sad smile.

"Don't think that I'm so brave. Leaving my family wasn't easy for me. It took me years to make the decision even though I knew that I loved Tom dearly. In my view, the fact that you consider everything proves that you're serious about Sean. I think that you should wait until the situation improves, perhaps even until the war is over. Meanwhile, don't resign from meeting him. Support him and be his source of strength."

Maureen nodded and squeezed Sybil's hand in gratitude, "I'll take your advice. I'll try to be brave and fight for this dream."

The two women exchanged smiles as Tom approached them and asked his wife to dance.

Sybil beamed at him and accepted his hand; soon she was twirling around the small room in the arms of the only person for whom she was willing to give up everything in the world.

* * *

When the Bransons were lying in bed that night, Sybil told Tom all about Maureen and Sean and their story.

"And of course you told her not to give up?" Tom commented.

Once Sybil nodded her agreement, he grinned and teased, "My darling, courageous romantic. It's a pity that no one advised you to elope me with me before the war was over."

Sybil swatted him on the chest. "You know that my long period of consideration does not make my love for you any weaker. I don't believe a human being can love someone deeper than I love you."

Tom's eyes watered. "The same for me, love," he uttered in a hushed voice.

"Had you believed that you could love another person _that _much before you fell for me?"

"No, dearest."

"Me neither. It's incredible, isn't it? I truly feel that we are part of the same person, of the same soul."

Tom replied to this by giving his beloved an ardent, tender kiss. Of course he felt exactly the same.

The kiss lasted, lasted and lasted...


	10. Fighting for Your Dreams 1920

_Time for another chapter :) This chapter was initially planned to be written for the EAST Alliance Conference, but I didn't finish it on time. Tom meets and bonds with a certain gentleman ;) Thank you for all the reviews and please keep them coming :)  
_

* * *

**Fighting for Your Dreams 1920**

* * *

_A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:  
Its loveliness increases; it will never  
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep  
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep  
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.  
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing  
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,  
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth  
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,  
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways  
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,  
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall  
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,  
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon  
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils  
With the green world they live in; and clear rills  
That for themselves a cooling covert make  
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,  
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:  
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms  
We have imagined for the mighty dead;  
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:  
An endless fountain of immortal drink,  
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink._

- **John Keats – "A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever"**

**September 1920**

_Dear Sybil and Tom,_

_I have to admit – London does me good. The city's bustle and hustle makes me forget about everything that has happened to me lately. I feel like there's so much to do with my life – maybe I am not destined to be a wife after all?_

_My mood is not the only positive news, though. In line with your advice, I decided to search for a publisher. It wasn't an easy task, but in the end, I found a publishing house that is willing to publish my… novel (it seems so unbelievable to write this!). I know that they don't publish my work because it is __**so**__ good; it's more about it being written by a daughter of an Earl. They feel a potential for a scandal, and the fact that I want the book published under a pseudonym spices things up and adds to the mystery. _

_Do I hope to make writing my career and main purpose in life? Perhaps. I'm thinking more and more seriously about it. In half an hour, I'm going to a literary meeting. There won't be only discussions about literature, but also dance, drink and nice company._

_Forgive me for the shortness of my letter, but I'm really busy nowadays. Most of all, I've written it to thank you for all the advice that you gave me – both regarding my book as well as this London visit._

_Hope that you and Saoirse are all well,_

_your sister Edith._

* * *

When Sybil read Edith's letter to Tom, he only smiled weakly. Yes, he was happy for Edith, but her letter also made him realize once more how useless _he_ had become.

It was late afternoon, and Tom had just come for Sybil to the hospital. It was their custom; they walked together from the hospital to Downton every day. They really treasured those walks because, for some time, they had the luxury of being alone outside Downton's gates. Also, they immensely enjoyed exchanging tales about their days – Sybil's spent at the hospital and Tom's at Downton with Saoirse.

"I'm glad that you sister found a publisher. It's not an easy task…" Tom remarked.

"Of course. But her novel is really good, so I'm not in the least surprised that she found someone interested in publishing it in the end."

"I'm afraid that it's not only a matter of whether things are good or bad, love."

Sybil sensed bitterness in her husband's voice and knew exactly what had caused it.

"Darling, you know well that Edith has the advantage of the Crawley name, which of course does not diminish her talent."

"Well, I clearly do not have this advantage, " Tom replied harshly.

"I understand your bitterness…"

"You do? Then why are you against me taking the job in Liverpool?" Tom said in an accusatory tone, and after a short pause added, "I can't endure being here for much longer. Maybe Liverpool means moving backwards a little, but it at least offers us freedom, Sybil. I'm tired of living at Downton, and I'm sure that you're tired as well."

Sybil knew that Tom's bitter words were true. She was also well aware that while she could spend at least half a day at work, Tom had to spend his whole days behind Downton's gates. She perfectly understood his feelings, but yet… she also realized that it was all a trap. They would go to Liverpool, Tom would work as a mechanic, they would settle in their lives, focus on the daily life and soon forget about their aspirations and dreams. Now that they were in limbo at her ancestral home, they were searching for the best opportunity all the time…

"I know what you mean, I really do. Maybe we'll just try to become more independent from my family? We'll go outside more often and don't take part in their dinners and parties that frequently…" the young woman proposed.

"That would be no doubt appreciated," her husband muttered.

"And have you thought about the job that Matthew offered you?"

"I have. But it sounds like a good joke, doesn't it? A man who's been banished from his homeland for allegedly taking part in the burning of an aristocratic house, now does all in his power to preserve another such estate. Sounds like appropriate redemption," Tom sneered.

Sybil did not want to show that she was happy about her husband's attitude; she also did not think that the estate manager job was suitable for Tom.

"Though…" Tom unexpectedly continued, "soon I may seriously consider taking it, if nothing else comes along, which is a very probable scenario."

Sybil swallowed nervously, "This is certainly not a job that will bring your satisfaction nor is it truly moving forward. It would regress you to becoming once more my father's employee."

"Indeed. This is not a talk about ideal scenarios, though," Tom replied resignedly.

"I think that you just let bitterness take the better of you. It's so not like you, like us."

Tom looked at her questioningly, and Sybil clarified, "Remember when I couldn't get a job as a nurse in Dublin? I didn't get it three times in row. Then, I was only employed for a trial period, but I did well and they employed me full time. We're the Bransons, we fight until the hope is completely gone, and in your case it isn't."

"I don't think you understand me this time, Sybil. You've never been dependent on someone's money. Someone who looks down upon you," Tom said angrily and began walking faster so that he and Sybil were no longer walking beside each other.

They walked in silence until they reached the gates of the Abbey.

* * *

After a silent afternoon, in the evening Tom decided to go on a stroll to the village. As an Earl's "famous" chauffeur-in-law, he often attracted much annoying attention. Consequently, when he heard a voice exclaiming "Good evening, Mr. Branson", his first reaction was to grit his teeth angrily. He turned around in order to reply to the greeting and then quickly leave the place, but he was surprised by whom he saw approaching. It was Sir Anthony Strallan, the man who had jilted Edith at the altar. He hadn't seen him since that fatal day for obvious reasons; even though Sir Anthony was an old family friend, both parties understood that any meeting would cause too much awkwardness and pain. Tom liked the man and did not blame him entirely for what had happened. He was well aware that his father-in-law and the Dowager Countess did not approve of the match and had tried to dissuade both the bride and the groom from getting married. In Tom's opinion, Sir Anthony might have wanted good for Edith, but had done it the wrong way. Nevertheless, Tom had nothing against talking to the baronet.

"Mr. Branson, I want to congratulate you on the birth of your daughter. I know that I'm very late, but I didn't have any opportunity to do it earlier," Sir Anthony said awkwardly.

"Thank you. Saoirse is a beautiful and healthy girl."

"I've heard that there were some complications… hopefully Mrs. Branson is now completely fine?"

"Yes, they needed to perform a Cesarean section, but she's fine now, thank God."

Sir Anthony bit his lip nervously before asking the next question, "And how is… Lady Edith?"

An unpleasant silence fell between the two men. Tom pondered for a while what to say and ultimately answered, "She's in London, visiting her aunt. We've got a letter from her today. She seems to be in very good spirits."

The other man gave a sigh of relief, "I'm very glad that she's happy."

They now began walking together.

"She's happy because she was allowed to take her life into her own hands. Too often in the past other people decided what was best for her," Tom murmured and looked at his interlocutor pointedly.

Sir Anthony did not want to pretend that he didn't hear. "I knew… it wouldn't work in the end. She's young, she was not yet aware of all the challenges that would await us…"

"Maybe she was aware, but didn't mind them?"

Sir Anthony was surprised by Tom's boldness, and replied in a defensive tone, "How could I be a guarantee of Edith's happiness? I'm much older, my arm is disabled, her family does not accept our union… This isn't what a young, pretty and clever young woman deserves."

"Does everything need to be perfect? Maybe she's willing to fight for her dreams, like spending a life with the man she loves and who understands her. Listen – it has hardly been perfect for Sybil and me even though I'm a young, able-bodied man. However, there's still been numerous obstacles to our happiness. But we keep fighting on, and it's worth it."

"Even Edith's family thinks that I can't make her happy, and I'm an old family friend who has a title and a prosperous estate. For some parents that would be enough," Anthony muttered.

"As a member of that family, I can only express my doubts whether Lord Grantham or the Dowager Countess are best judges when it comes to Edith's happiness… I don't think that Lord Grantham understands his two younger daughters at all. He loves them, yes, but he does not understand that what's best in his opinion does not mean what's _truly_ best for them. As such, he pays Edith and Sybil attention only when they want to do what he does not approve of. It's his way of caring, but it does not mean that he's right."

Sir Anthony was in awe of the young man's bold and honest way of speaking. It was clearly noticeable that he was not part of the culture that Anthony had been brought up in. Aristocrats never spoke openly about their familial relations, especially about difficult and delicate issues. Even the English in general were not too eager to share such things with other people.

"I… maybe Edith only wanted to marry me because she was still not married and didn't see any better prospects for herself. There's a shortage of men after the war," the baronet ultimately managed to mumble.

"Now she has an alternative. She said in her letter that she could envision herself as having a career, and that maybe she wasn't destined for marriage after all. If she comes back, and rejects you…" Tom suggested.

"How I can try to pursue her again? After I've humiliated her in front of the whole congregation? She may reject me for that reason alone…"

"At least try and fight for your dream even if this may be even more difficult than before. And perhaps this is Edith's dream as well, and from then on you'll be fighting for it together, as you should have done earlier."

Sir Anthony was deep in thought after Tom's words. His only comment to them was: "I need to turn left here. Goodbye, and all the best wishes to your family", but the young man knew that he gave the baronet food for thought.

And this conversation was cathartic for _him_ as well.

* * *

When Tom returned to the big house, he found his wife at the nursery, putting Saoirse to sleep. It was a ritual that they always performed together, so Tom was a little taken aback that Sybil had decided to do it on her own that evening.

"It was late and you weren't coming, so I made up my mind to it alone," Sybil clarified as soon as she saw her husband.

It was only then that Tom realized how late it really was. "Sorry, darling, I've just met Sir Anthony in the village and we've talked for some time."

Sybil raised her eyebrows, but did not ask him for any explanation; they both knew that the time for that would come later, now the most important thing was to spend some time with Saoirse.

Tonight it was different, though. Normally, they smiled and looked at each other, but today Sybil was completely focused on Saoirse and did not pay any attention to her husband.

_I deserve this_, Tom inwardly groaned.

"I'm sorry, love. For my outburst earlier today," he stated loudly and clearly.

"Apologies accepted," was Sybil's plain answer.

It was always this way with them – they had their quarrels, but they couldn't stay angry with each other for long nor were they unable to say "sorry".

Subsequently, Sybil handed Saoirse to Tom and looked in delight at the father and the daughter. This was definitely her favourite part of the day. What she loved most was that Tom still stared in awe at the little girl; she found it incredibly moving.

Tom sat at a nearby coach and gestured for Sybil to do the same. Once she sat down next to him, he whispered, "I allowed myself recently to be overcome by bitterness and frustration. I forgot who me and you are, that we're the Bransons and we fight for our dreams until hope is completely gone. I'm sorry, love."

His wife took his hand into hers. "Our situation has been difficult lately. I understand your frustration, but I will not allow you to abandon your ambitions."

Tom only nodded in response. "I thought about the whole matter again, and well… I'll be more than happy to take care of Saoirse when you're at the hospital. I'll sit with our beautiful girl and will keep on writing… I got a job as journalist once, hopefully I'll get it soon once more. I can occupy myself even here. It's only my pride that was wounded, but now I see that it will be even more wounded if I abandon my dreams."

"Tom, as I promised to you, we need to try to become more independent from my family… we allowed them to sort of plan our life for us recently."

"Yes, we live our lives but according to their schedule. Time to be even more independent."

"Tom?..." Sybil suddenly asked in a nervous tone.

"Yes?"

"Would you mind if we give part of my salary to my parents? It's nothing for them, but at least we won't be living just on their money anymore. I know that you'd prefer to earn money yourself, but…"

"No, I would not mind. It would make me feel better that we live at least partly on _our _money," Tom said decisively.

Sybil smiled in response.

"You know what is it time for?" Tom asked with smirk on his handsome face.

"Time for a lullaby," Sybil answered delightedly. That was her favourite moment of the favourite part of the day - Tom singing Saoirse to sleep. He had an excellent voice, and the father-child bonding always made the proud Mama melt.

_Seoithín, seo hó, mo stór é, mo leanbh  
Mo sheoid gan cealg, mo chuid gan tsaoil mhór  
Seothín seo ho, nach mór é an taitneamh  
Mo stóirín na leaba, na chodladh gan brón._

_A leanbh mo chléibh go n-eirí do chodhladh leat_  
_Séan is sonas gach oíche do chóir_  
_Tá mise le do thaobh ag guídhe ort na mbeannacht_  
_Seothín a leanbh is codail go foill._

_Ar mhullach an tí tá síodha geala_  
_Faol chaoin re an Earra ag imirt is spoirt_  
_Seo iad aniar iad le glaoch ar mo leanbh_  
_Le mian é tharraingt isteach san lios mór.*_

It was an eventful day, with an unpleasant beginning, but a beautiful ending.

* * *

*** An old lullaby in Irish Gaelic. ****Translation taken from the site mamalisa . com**

_Hush-a-bye, baby, my darling, my child_  
_My flawless jewel, my piece of the world_  
_Hush-a-bye, baby, isn't it a great joy_  
_My little one in bed without any sorrows._

_Child of my heart, sleep calmly _  
_And well all night and be happy_  
_I'm by your side praying for blessings on you,_  
_Hush-a-bye, baby and sleep for now._

_On top of the house there are white fairies_  
_Playing and frolicking under the gentle moonlight_  
_Here they come calling my baby_  
_To draw him into their great fairy mound._

* * *

**Next up: Domesticity 1919  
**


End file.
